Book 2: Code 208
by ReverendKilljoy
Summary: Sequel to "Magic Kingdom Come." Further JD adventures in DC. Josh, Donna, Amy, Charlie, Jed, Marco, Toby, the list just goes on! Romance comedy and drama. No monorail, but Leo in the kitchen, plus Joey Lucas and Kenny chicks dig Kenny!
1. Sunday

Omnibus Disclaimer:

Based wholly or partly on characters and situations created by Aaron Sorkin, Thomas Schlamme, John Wells, NBC, Warner Brothers Television Production Inc., and who knows what others. Rated PG13: An unauthorized work of speculative fiction with some adult situations and sexual content, graphic language, brief nudity and mature themes. Parental discretion is advised. Do not distribute for profit or without notification to the author. Not to be taken internally. No user serviceable parts inside. Made in the USA. "I wouldn't stop for red lights." Strongest fan fiction available without a prescription. May cause dizziness, dry mouth or nausea. Do not read my fan fiction while driving, drinking or operating heavy machinery. I'm Reverend Killjoy and I approved this Disclaimer.

_Note: This West Wing AU story is set some time in Season 5, pre-CODEL trip. Contains assorted spoilers for Season 1-4+. This revised and rewritten edition is a sequel to "Book One: Magic Kingdom Come." If you have not read that work you will be a bit confused. If you read the first edition of "Code 208," I hope you like the changes. Thanks to Leslie and others who encouraged me to resolve my issues with posting fan fiction, and to revise and improve this piece. -ReverendKilljoy_

Book Two: Code 208

W.W. – Sunday morning

"Donna!"

"What is it Josh?" Her voice was disgustingly cheerful. She sounded awake. He forced one eye open, and sure enough, she was awake.

"Donna, why did you let me sleep?" He tried to sit up, and decided it was a process best completed in stages.

"You looked so peaceful, and I thought you'd like to rest."

"We're going to be back in Lorton soon, right? I have to be awake to drive us home." Josh levered himself up and looked around the small compartment of the train that was taking them and his car back to DC from Florida.

"I smell coffee," he added, still somewhat frazzled and more than a little confused.

"I had a little time and I got some. You can share mine." She made a long arm and handed him a cup from where she was sitting, writing in her notebook. "It's still pretty hot, so be careful."

"You cleaned up, and you got coffee," he mused, taking a sip. He frowned and took another sip, swishing it around in his mouth. "And you found the time to knit each one of my teeth its own little sweater. How thoughtful." He gulped the coffee down with a look of mixed disgust and relief.

She chuckled, a delightful sound deep in her throat.

"Yes, Josh, I had to show my maternal domestic knitting side. It was either teeth sweaters or baby booties and I figured you'd be happier with sweater tooth morning breath than with the alternative."

He rubbed a hand across his face, pouting as she took back her cup of coffee.

"Speaking of that, shouldn't we, um, you know, have a talk about, you know, the thing?"

"760 verbal," she sighed softly. "Josh, I missed my pill. Several times. And we made sure to, um, make several efforts to test our mutual fertility."

"Seven times," he said with a yawn.

"Eight times," she reminded him, with a blush and a grin.

"Oh, yeah. Walk-in shower." He nodded and rubbed his eyes, starting to look a little more human.

"So, you saying what's done is done," he noted with a dimpled grin. "But actually, I didn't mean that, not that I don't find all this fertility talk bracing before the caffeine has even hit. I meant about the wedding, which is something women usually want before they are married, or so I hear."

"You want to talk to me? About our wedding?" She stared in disbelief.

"Well, yeah. It's going to take some sort of planning, right? I don't think I can expect to just delegate that all to you. We're partners now, not boss and assistant."

"Josh," she said with a large grin and a husky voice, "there is just no way in which I don't want you right now."

"I get that a lot."

W.W. –Sunday evening

Margaret leaned her head into Leo McGarry's office and waited till he looked up. After a moment, eyes still glued to the briefing memo in his hands, he growled at her.

"Did you want something, or are you just going to loiter there, Margaret?"

She ignored his gruff tone. He had more levels of tone, from bored to gruff to overtly hostile, than any man she had ever known. This? This was nothing.

"I have all the information you and Josh requested for Monday, in your box. I was going to see if you wanted anything to eat before they close down the mess?" That was her less than subtle way of reminding him to eat, and that it was getting late.

"No thank you, and I will ignore your less than subtle way of reminding me to eat, since it's getting late." He started packing his briefcase, obviously winding things up for the day.

"Okay, that was just creepy," she muttered to herself. She indicated the stacks of paperwork neatly arranged on his desk. "Should I have any of this sent over to the hotel, Leo?"

"I'm sorry to have kept you all Sunday, so no thank you, Margaret. I'm going to be over at the house this week. We'll just pick up again tomorrow." He started looking for his overcoat. It was, as always, hanging on the back of his door, but he could never just go grab it, he had to fret about for a minute or so looking for it. Once he had accidentally just taken his coat and gone home, and he'd been awake for hours wondering what he'd forgotten. He was getting too old to waste time not looking for an overcoat that wasn't lost. He shook his head. That had almost made sense to him.

Margaret meanwhile was trying to control her reaction. She started to speak several times, but she had no idea what to say. She thought once the divorce was final, he'd taken the last of his things from the Chevy Chase house. He hadn't said anything to her about seeing Mrs. McGarry again.

It was a quirk of their relationship, Margaret and Leo's, that she had no trouble at all calling him Leo, yet she could never call his wife anything but Mrs. McGarry. She gathered her thoughts and realized she'd been standing openmouthed in front of him for quite a while.

"Well. Okay. Then."

"I'll need to meet Josh before he goes in to see the President, tomorrow. Why don't you close the office and head home? The rest of this can wait." Leo spotted his overcoat and draped it over his arm, ready to head to his car and driver.

She admired the dashing figure he cut. His coat probably cost more than her Corolla. Okay, that was an exaggeration. His coat and suit, maybe- her man could dress.

"I'm shutting down the phones. I leave when you leave, right boss?"

He gave her a wry grin. "Good girl. I'll walk you down."

W.W.

"So, Donna," Josh said, taking his hands off the wheel and twisting around to look at her, "you want me to park and come up? Or should I come back tonight and get you?"

"Come back and…?" She looked at him in puzzlement. "Oh. You mean about tonight."

He frowned at her. "Well, yeah. Is that a problem?"

"Well, I have a lot of things I need to take care of today. I haven't even called my parents back yet. I thought I'd see you at the office tomorrow."

He tried not to pout. He had been drawing up the list of things he'd need to do, from breaking his lease to explaining to the President of the United States why he was leaving a 16-year political career to move to Florida. Still, there was the sleeping thing.

"Still," he said, "there's the sleeping thing."

She tipped her head. "The sleeping thing."

"Did I say that out loud?" His voice went up two octaves to almost cracking, the way it did. "It's just, well, I've grown accustomed to a certain amount of physical, you know, closeness when I'm sleeping. How will I be able to do that if I'm home and you're all the way over here?"

It was almost cute. Almost. "Josh. I am tired, I have to unpack and do eleven hundred things, from breaking my lease to explaining to my friends at work why I am leaving a 6-year White House career to move to Florida."

"Okay," he told her with an odd look, "that was just creepy. Anyway, I was thinking tonight after we got some of your stuff back to the condo we could maybe…" He was thinking of the train, of waking up holding her, of watching her face as she stared into the diamond on her engagement ring like it was a crystal ball and could tell her their future.

"Josh!" She sounded pretty pissed. "I'm tired, I'm travel weary and frankly a little sore from certain unaccustomed exercises, and I'm just about out of clean panties, so go home, get yourself some sleep and see you at the office."

She opened the door, grabbed her bag and slammed the door shut. He sat, mouth literally hanging open, as she headed up the steps towards her door. He rolled the window down, and leaned over to call to her.

"Donna! Hey, Donna!"

She stopped at the top step and did not even look back at him. She squared her shoulders and yelled over her shoulder.

"Go home Josh! See you in the morning."

"But I just thought…" he muttered to her back as she went inside, dragging her bag behind her. "I love you," he said, still not sure what he had said wrong.

He pulled away and drove home in silence.


	2. Monday Morning

W.W. –Monday morning

"C.J.! C.J!"

"Yes, Steve?" C.J. Cregg looked over the tops of her glasses at the prematurely white-haired man in the second row.

"Does the White House have any further comment on the story that Deputy Chief of Staff Josh Lyman has tendered his resignation?"

"Well, I'd like to note that Josh Lyman has been a valuable member of the administration since joining the President's first campaign for the White House, and his contributions have not come without personal sacrifices. I understand he plans to meet with the President tonight and I'm sure I'll have more comment for you then. Until then, I neither wish to speculate nor gossip, despite your palpable desire to have me do so."

"C.J., does Josh Lyman's resignation have anything to do with the story in this weekend's Miami Herald, which stated that he was photographed in what was described as, and I'm quoting here, a 'passionate, public embrace' with his long-time assistant, Donna Moss?"

"Well, Katie, obviously when I said I didn't wish to speculate or gossip, I didn't mean to include where he was, who he was with or what he might be doing. I'm getting each one of you a dictionary for Christmas, honest to God." C.J. pouted just the slightest bit.

"And, since none of you are going to give me nearly enough credit for using the phrase 'palpable desire' in the White House Press Room, that's it for this morning everyone. See you this afternoon when your outfits may change but your questions will very likely be the same." C.J. grinned and snapped her briefing folder closed with a pop.

"C.J.! C.J.!" They always tried for one last follow-up. She had never taken one, but it didn't stop them from trying.

"Carol," she told her assistant on the way out, "make sure Steve, Katie, and Philip all have a hard copy of Friday's statement on Donna's new job before they leave the building today?"

"Already done," Carol said with a broad grin. She took three steps to every two of C.J. as they walked quickly away from the Press Room and back to C.J.'s office.

"Thanks. We don't want them getting creative describing her new position, especially since no one but the President, Leo and Donna seem to know exactly what it is yet."

W.W.

Donna managed to get up and get ready for work without looking at the huge pile of boxes UPS had delivered from Florida, or the two delivery notices on the door since her roommate had gone out.

"Accustomed to a certain amount of physical closeness my ass." She blew at a strand of hair that was hanging in her face. She wanted to go back to bed. Or the sofa, the sofa was good.

She looked at the pile of papers and books still waiting for her. She had been in the middle of several projects when the trip to Florida had arrived out of virtually nowhere, and she'd planned to clean up when she got back.

She hadn't really planned on falling in love, graduating college, committing to a new job in another state, and getting engaged all over the last week. In retrospect, this had proven to be shortsighted of her.

Most of all, she spent the morning not thinking, very deliberately and precisely not thinking, about the pills she had missed in Florida, and the bajillion little Lyman swimmers that might or might not have made themselves at home somewhere past her cervix during the weekend. In case that wasn't enough, she had a wedding to start planning, but until the next news cycle broke they didn't dare tell anyone at work who might possibly help. Wonderful.

She took a moment to look at herself in the mirror on the back of her closet door. She put her hands on her hips and rolled them forward, pushing her belly out. She turned a bit and contemplated the view.

Maybe she was being silly. Worse things could happen. A Josh baby would be a cute baby, right? All dark eyes and curly hair? She sucked her stomach back in, and frowned at the sleek silhouette. Maybe she didn't want to be safe, she didn't want to be 'lucky.'

Maybe she just wanted to be happy.


	3. Monday Night

W.W.- late Monday evening

Josh was sitting at his desk, illuminated only by the desk lamp. The bullpen was not deserted but it was certainly quiet.

Donna's desk was empty, but she didn't need to actually be in the room anymore to command his complete attention. She had been in for the day but he had sent her home, told her to call her folks and relax for the evening. The stress had been bad enough on him, he couldn't bear to see it on her too.

He supposed he should be reflecting on his White House career, on his years in Washington. In a few minutes, he was going to formally offer to resign as President Josiah Bartlet's Deputy Chief of Staff, and then it was just a matter of running the transition to the next guy.

Still, it was hard to stay focused on that meeting. His mind was darting back and forth from the immediate past to the uncertain future. Why was Donna mad at him? Certainly, she had reason to be pissed at him, daily, but he couldn't think what he'd done this time.

Contrary to popular conjecture, Josh Lyman was not without awareness of the way he treated people, especially women, especially women he cared about. Usually, however, there was a pretty significant buffer of Don't-Give-a-Damn so he often screwed things up without really paying attention. That had happened before with him and Donna, but this time he had been paying attention, he had been thinking about what he was doing and saying.

Maybe he should call her? No, better not. Not from the office. If she thought for a moment he was calling her in to work there'd be hell to pay, and these days it was a personal, private hell she could subject him to. He realized he had the phone in his hand, and gently put it back on the cradle.

"So are you going to sit there in the dark, or are you going to come on and quit your job?"

Leo's voice startled him, and he sat up suddenly. Leo was standing in the doorway, and Josh had no idea how long he had been there.

"Sorry."

Leo grinned and shrugged. "Don't worry about it. You ready to go do this?"

"How should I know?" Josh stood up. "I've never… I always thought that I'd be here till the end. I thought I'd be the last man into the boats, you know?"

"Yeah. Let me ask you something Josh, not as your boss, just, I don't know, as a friend of your father. Do you love this girl as much as we all think you do?"

"She's the real thing, Leo."

"I figured. You're going to be good to her." It wasn't a question. "God knows why, but she obviously loves you. Don't screw this up."

"I don't…" Josh started, combative instincts rising. He took a breath. "Yeah. That would be bad."

They started walking towards the oval office.

"So, how's your mom?" Leo and Ruth went back a long time, and he had been a little worried about her alone down in Florida. Despite his affection for Josh's father, Leo knew it was good she'd found someone.

"She's good." Josh thought about the look on her face when she had kissed him goodbye. "She seems happy."

"Your father was a good man, Josh. He was bigger than life. It can be hard to move on, so don't give her any grief, you hear me?" Leo had a more or less friendly hand on Josh's shoulder when he said this.

"No, sir." Josh grinned. "She's going to be pretty mad at me for not calling back yesterday, though."

They had arrived at the Oval Office. Nancy was at the desk this evening, and she nodded them through. Leo buttoned his jacket as he always did before entering the office of the President. He shot a look at Josh.

"Why should you have called yesterday?" Leo knocked once lightly on the door and held it open for Josh.

"I guess because I asked Donna to marry me, yesterday morning on the train back to DC." Josh walked past a speechless Leo into the Oval Office.

W.W.

Margaret was sitting at her desk. Her phones were shut down and she was already in her coat, but she had not finished locking up her desk. She kept opening a notepad, staring at the blank page for a few minutes, and then closing it. This had been going on for a while.

What the hell was Leo doing back at his house? No, back at his ex-wife's house? Was she unhappy in her new marriage? Were they trying to work things out? Mrs. McGarry had seemed pretty happy last Margaret had seen her. If Leo was divorced, he should stay out of her life, and her house. It wasn't like Leo to screw around with this kind of thing. She got her notebook out again and stared at it, then went to put it away.

Her pager went off, and after checking the number, she made a call.

"Yes, this is Margaret, you paged me… He said what? I understand. Thank you."

She hung up the phone, and rose from her chair. Shrugging her coat off, she opened a file cabinet and took out a white folder, with a red band around the edge. She didn't have to familiarize herself with the contents. She took the top sheet out, and began following a protocol that had been carefully and scientifically planned by some of the finest minds in Washington.

W.W.

In a cinema in Georgetown, a strikingly attractive woman had her first decent date in moths interrupted by the vibrating of her pager. With an embarrassed grimace, she whispered to her companion.

"Excuse me, that's mine." She turned it off. "I'm sorry, it's work. I need to make a call and then I'll be right back."

"Hey Bonnie, if we need to go…?" He knew how hard it could be to make time around government schedules. Her fingertips on his lips silenced him.

"Hush, don't worry," she told him. She leaned in to kiss him briefly, their first kiss, but very nice. "You, don't go anywhere. I'll be right back." She looked at the number on her pager. "Or no, no I won't. Damn! Call me? Please? Sorry!"

She hurried out of the theater and into the hall, already hitting speed dial.

W.W.

"Ma?" shouted the redhead through the bathroom door. "I'm taking my pantyhose off. I said I'd be right out."

"Ginger," her mother shouted back, "Your pager's going off!"

"What?"

"Your pager! Should I check it?"

"Ma!" Ginger shouted, sliding her pantyhose down. She hated changing at her mother's after work, but she hadn't had time to run home before visiting. "I can't hear you! Be right out!"

Her mother had come down the hall and was now holding the pager, trying to read the screen in the hallway light outside the bathroom door.

"Ginger? All it says is '208.' Does that mean something to you?"

The door flew open. Ginger was standing with her panty hose around her ankles and her work dress still on but unzipped all the way down the back.

"208? It says 208?" She was flushed.

"That's what I've been saying. Are you all right, Cookie?"

Ginger held the pager in both hands. Her mother hadn't seen that mixture of shock, awe and fear on a woman's face since her Jacqueline had done one of those home pregnancy kits to 'prove she wasn't pregnant.' Ginger looked up.

"I need my cell phone." She took one step, promptly tangled her feet in her pantyhose, and went down like puppet with her strings cut. "Ouch?"

"I'll get your phone, honey," her mother told her, looking at her daughter sprawling into the hallway from the bathroom. "You just sort all that out."

W.W.

In Langley, Virginia, not too far from the front gates of the CIA, a pager went off. Inside an apartment, with the sound of a DVD playing ignored in front of them, a man and a woman were entwined on a couch.

Suddenly, the woman giggled, her dark hair falling in waves around her face. A moment later, the man pushed her back to arm's length.

"Is that your pager, Carol, or are you just really glad to be here?"

"Nate!" She gave him a saucy grin to soften the harsh bite to her voice. "It's probably nothing. Let me get it."

He rolled over, pulling her up on to his lap. He gave her a smug grin and pressed her hips to his.

"Or I could just hold you here, and hope they page again." Damn, he was adorable.

The pager began to vibrate again and she used the added leverage of her laughter to slide from his lap onto the floor. She fished her pager out of her pocket and sat up.

"What is it?" Nate sobered at her expression. "Something wrong?"

"I can't believe it." She turned to him "Nate, I'm sorry. I have to call my boss right away."

"Sure," he told her. "The movie will wait… are you okay?"

"Yes. I just have to call C.J. I'm so sorry." She was up and looking for her shoes.

"At this rate, it's going to be six dates before we make it through 'Kate & Leopold.' Not that I'm complaining." He handed her the missing shoe, which he had rolled over on.

"You are so… Mmm! Damn, I have to leave." She was at the door, hopping as she got her other shoe on. "Hold that thought… and see you… well. Hold that thought?"

"Sure!" he told the door as it closed. He ran his fingers through his close-cropped hair. "Sure."

W.W.

Donna looked at the clock. It was only 10:30, but it seemed much later. She had fallen asleep on the couch, surrounded by packages and paperwork. Her eyes felt gummy, and her mouth was so dry her tongue kept sticking to her teeth. Some idiot was pushing her doorbell. She had taken all her laundry down to the little launderette, only to discover that she had no clean panties to change into whatsoever till her first load was dried. She'd have to venture out to the laundry later or 'go commando' tomorrow.

She got up feeling like her clothes had shrunk onto her while she napped on the couch. The elastic of her pajamas had left an angry red itching line across her lower back. Some idiot was pushing her doorbell. She stole her roommate's last bottle of water and looked at her empty fridge. Add groceries to the list of must-emerge-from-the-apartment tasks tonight or tomorrow.

Her mouth, no longer sticky dry, was now feeling very marinated in an unpleasant way. Some idiot was pushing her doorbell. She must have slept with her mouth open while…

Oh. Doorbell.

She hit the speaker panel. "Hello? What?"

"Donna? It's me. Can I come up?"

She groaned. She just wanted to be alone, and maybe take a long shower. What happened to sensitive romantic doing things right Josh? She guessed they really were back in Washington, vacation over.

"I was sleeping. Can't I see you tomorrow?"

"I just had my meeting with the President." He wasn't whining. Oh. Oops.

She buzzed him in.

W.W.

"Jed? Are you all right?" After all the years, after everything that had happened, her voice still caught his attention every time. He could not have tuned her out if he'd tried.

"I'm fine, Abbey," he called back to her, pulling off his tie. He'd missed the early dinner he'd hoped for and was hoping to settle for a few cocktails and maybe some casual conversation with his wife.

He came in to the room, and saw her, feet tucked under her, reading on the sofa. Her hair was down and her shoes were off and in the warm spot of reading light on the sofa she was still the most beautiful thing he had ever imagined. He stopped to look at her.

"What is it Jed? Are you upset about Josh leaving?" She was looking at him over her reading glasses. She really had amazing eyes. He ought to tell her that more often.

"He said something tonight, something that didn't seem like…" He lost his train of thought as he moved to sit next to her. "He surprised me tonight, Abbey, in a way I didn't expect."

"Which would be, I believe the definition of a surprise." She smiled at him and reached a hand out to pat his knee.

He caught her hand in his, and looked at her with all of his attention, with the way he had, that most great politicians have, of making her feel like she was the only person in the world to him at that moment. He held her hand and told her softly, "He asked that little girl to marry him yesterday. Right on the train. Can you believe that?"

He continued to search her face, finding in every feature, and every line, comfort and beauty and love. "Amid all the changes he knows are coming for them, he wanted her to have his ring, to have his name, to covenant with her before God… And Leo and I just stood there, as proud as any father. I wanted to tell you, and I wanted to tell you that I love you, Abigail Ann Bartlet."

"Well, Jethro," she said somewhat breathlessly, "with men like you and Josh in the world, I'm not convinced we need a Protection of Marriage Act." She leaned forward and pressed her lips to his forehead.

"So," she said with a slight blush, "who do Leo and Josh want to look at as his replacement?"

W.W.

"I'm sorry. I know you wanted some time alone."

He looked better than Donna had expected, considering. She knew it was going to be tough for her to tell everyone she was leaving. She could barely imagine what it had taken for Josh to leave.

"It's okay, Josh. It's just been a rough day and I'm sorry I didn't feel up to another night of wooing just yet." She hugged him. "Still, I'm glad you came."

"I didn't want wooing. I brought no woo," he said softly into her shoulder. He pulled back and looked at her, then looked down. "I just wanted to be with you, you know, to be with you."

"You just wanted to be with me, even though I'm tired, and cranky? Emotional and possibly hormonal and generally suffering through vaporish fits of femaleness?" She teased him but she also meant it. Josh had a delicate system. She'd seen him turn pale and sweaty just from the word "tampon." While she was waffling on the merits of jump-starting a new family might not be the best time to test his endurance.

"We're going to be really busy for a while. And I know you'll have a lot more travel when you start your new job. I don't see why we should be apart any more than we have to."

She blinked. "You're serious."

He ran his hand through his hair, which left it standing more or less straight out to the side. "Well, yeah. I mean, I can understand needing some time. There's been a lot to digest. Would you rather be alone tonight? I'll understand."

"Well, I need to shower, and I have to go get some panties." She was amazed. He barely leered- he _must_ be tired. "You didn't eat dinner either, did you? Why don't I get us some takeout while I'm out?"

"We could do that. Or, if you want, write down whatever, um, whatever kind of under things it is you need, and I'll go by the megamart. They have that kind of stuff, right? You take a bath, relax, and then we'll eat. We can get your cleaning tomorrow."

She stared at him. "Who are you? What have you done with my boss?"

He grinned, a tired grin, but an honest one. "I replaced him with your fiancé. Cute trick, huh?"

"Very. Let me get you a list of what I'll need. I'll shower- you shop. We'll take some clothes and head over to your place." She nodded towards her bedroom and the stack of unopened, opened and emptied cartons and folders massed around her bed.

He considered a moment. "I like your plan. You are in charge of plans. I can be in charge of, uh, team morale. Okay, make a list, and make it very specific. If I don't see what you want, I'm sure as hell not asking for help."

"Fair enough. Hey? Morale officer? Love you." She started making her list.

"Damned straight," he told her. "Oh, you still haven't guessed who Leo and I want to interview for my position." He had a broad and evil grin, obviously fishing, and she tried to ignore him till her list was done.


	4. Tuesday Morning

W.W.- Tuesday morning

Just like the previous day, Donna walked though the security station feeling like every eye was on her. Kyle, a fifty-something officer with the security detail, nodded to her like he always did, and she had to actively suppress the urge to shout, "Yes, yes, I'm sleeping with my boss!"

She chalked it up to anxiety and a little bit of hormones. She knew she'd have to talk to everyone soon- there was no chance people would just let things lie another day. Still, she had to hope there would be some respectful moratorium on prying, so she and Josh could tastefully announce to their friends and colleagues the changes in store, make some plans, and take it from there.

She came around the corner into the bullpen, and was assaulted by a riot of colors and smells. It was as if a florist had exploded over her desk. Flowers, streamers, and even candy bouquets and gift bags covered every horizontal service. Standing front and center were all the senior assistants, led by Margaret.

"Hooray!" The sound was a physical force, stopping her dumbstruck in her tracks.

Margaret grabbed her by the shoulders, but was speechless herself and finally just hugged her wildly, almost knocking them into Bonnie, who was waiting her turn. Donna had barely escaped Bonnie's embrace when Ginger, tears running down both cheeks smothered her in a snuffly hug.

"We're all so happy for you," Ginger sobbed.

"I couldn't believe it, I mean I always knew but after so long, what am I saying…" Carol seemed to be blushing and grinning at the same time.

"You show 'em, Donna, you show 'em all!"

She found herself facing Ed and Larry, who had just come into the bullpen from the press area. Ed hugged her, and then Larry hugged her and kissed her cheek. She spun around and fell into her chair.

The noise finally abated as everyone paused for breath at once.

"So, what's the occasion?" Larry asked.

Ginger punched him on the arm. "You kissed her, you nitwit. What did you think was going on here?"

Larry flushed. "I don't know. Everyone was so happy, I got carried away."

C.J. arrived at that moment, carrying a bouquet of blushing cream-colored roses.

"There was kissing?" she asked, "And I missed it? Oh, these are for you." She held out the exquisite roses.

"Really, this is all too much," Donna said, holding the roses to her and smelling their delicate perfume. "All of you, and Carol, C.J., these really are…"

C.J. shooed Ed and Larry back out of the way. "You look a bit overwhelmed, Donna. Okay, you unruly horde, disperse I say."

Her glowering soon had the assistants, Ed, and Larry back to something that might to a casual observer look like work. She scooted some flowers over on the desk and leaned back on it.

"Congratulations, Donna. Love suits you." She gave a wry smile and a little sad sigh. "It's been a while, but I can still recognize it when I see it."

"Really, C.J., this is too much!" Donna looked at all the flowers and gifts and cards. "We haven't even had a chance to tell anyone but you and Leo. Oh, and the President. How did everyone…" She stopped at C.J.'s smile.

"Oh. It leaked."

"Like a three dollar boat," C.J. confirmed. "Margaret had every assistant in here at 6:00 this morning getting all this ready. I got my page last night around 9:00."

"Josh didn't tell anyone till after 9:00! Even for this administration, that's an amazing display of… of..." She looked at C.J., eyes growing wide.

"Margaret," they said together.

"It was a 'Code 208,' Margaret said- a confirmed Josh and Donna relationship alert. She apparently has a lot of free time." C.J. pondered for a moment. "I wonder how she does that?"

Donna laughed. "Here, why don't you take those roses? I mean, what am I going to do with 300 pounds of flowers?"

C.J. patted her shoulder as she stood up. "I think you'll want to hold onto the roses. They're not from me. They're from…" Her eyes narrowed as she saw some congressmen coming down the hallway. She said softly but with a casual expression, very obliquely as the congressmen approached, "Those are from the Management."

Donna looked at her, and then looked to the flowers. "The Rose Garden?" She asked, hushed and amazed. These flowers would be pressed, dried, and line her hope chest one day. Okay, so she didn't have a hope chest, but with roses from the President of the United States to kick it off it might not be too late to start one.

"When is Josh coming in?" C.J. asked her. "We're moving Senior Staff up to 8:55."

"Right. He said he was going call his mother first thing then he'd be here by half past."

"You better get those in some water. And you might want to call the busy elves back to clean some of this stuff out before Josh comes in. Just a suggestion."

"Thanks. Good idea." Her phone rang, and she waved C.J. off as she answered. "Josh Lyman's office?"

"Hello, this is Special Agent Michael Casper of the Federal Bureau of Investigations. Is Mr. Lyman in the office?"

"Sorry, Mike, he's not due till just before Senior Staff this morning. I'm sorry he missed you yesterday. Can I arrange to have him call?"

"Sorry, Donna, it's not something, well, listen. If I come by around 11:30, can you free some time for me?"

"Sure. His lunch is free. Anything I should give him a heads-up on?" Mike often called, usually on short notice, and he usually was very formal when it was work related. He was cute, really, for someone who was, you know, not Josh.

"No, it's not something I can discuss right now. Put us down for lunch, ok?" He sounded a little distressed.

"Sure, is everything alright, Mike?"

"Certainly, I just need to speak to him this week. Thanks."

W.W.

Leo looked at Margaret, who was thumbing through a well-worn copy of Modern Bride magazine, oblivious to the people passing, oblivious even to Leo standing in front of her desk. With a combination of amusement and curiosity, he cleared his throat softly. No response.

"Is Mr. McGarry available today?" He waited as she highlighted something and slowly turned the page.

"Mr. McGarry has a full schedule today but you're welcome to leave your name," she said without looking up.

"What a shame," Leo said, "as I was hoping to give him this check for ten million dollars."

"The office of the Deputy Chief of Staff is normally next, but today I might try communications, just down the hall to your right." She was frowning over a Vera Wang in antiqued ivory with beaded accents. How would that look with blonde hair and alabaster skin? Not good, but the line was stunning.

"Cabbages make an excellent source of fuel for hovercrafts," Leo added conversationally.

"Thank you, I'll pass that along." She nodded, slapping a post-it on the page to mark the Vera Wang.

"Margaret!" Leo growled loudly, leaning slightly towards her.

"Ahhh!" Her eyes wide, she tried to close the magazine, cover her face with her hands, and stand straight up all at once. What she succeeded in doing was hurling the heavy magazine spine first into the bridge of Leo's nose.

"Ahhh!" His cry mimicked hers, just as Josh came around the corner flanked by a grinning C.J. and a less-dour-than-usual Toby.

"Sorry, sorry Boss!" Margaret was around the desk in a flash, as Leo sat heavily in her guest chair. The offending magazine had fallen open in his lap. As it slid to the floor, Josh snatched it up.

"I'b fide. Bargaret, I'b fide!" Leo was holding his nose, and a little bit of blood was dripping down his wrist. C.J. handed him a tissue from the box on the desk and helped him to his feet.

"The first casualty of the revolution, Josh," Toby noted, peering at the article in Josh's hands. "Struck down by… '30 Ways to a Heavenly Honeymoon'? Leo? Do you, too, have something to tell us, you crazy kids?" His dark eyebrows arched at Leo and Margaret.

"Toby!" Leo warned, heading towards his office with tissues held to his nose.

Margaret watched them go in, biting her lower lip and blushing to match her hair. There were times she hated being a redhead. All the high spirits from her successful Code 208 operation ebbed away at the thought of Leo being teased, or hurt, or embarrassed.

She had an odd relationship with Leo McGarry. She'd started as an intern in the Labor Department, and when he'd gone on the lecture circuit, he'd brought her along as his assistant. They had worked closely for over ten years, and she was beginning to realize that some day soon he would be retiring from public life and she would lose him.

Not lose him, not like she had him. Lose him like a boss, like a part of the team, the very formidable Leo and Margaret team. It just didn't bear thinking about. Maybe she should call over to the hotel and have another shirt sent over for him?

Oh. No. He was staying at the house this week. Her house. The former Mrs. McGarry's house. And she, Margaret, had just literally hit him over the head with a bridal magazine. She sat, despondent in her own guest chair and sighed. Speaking of things that just didn't bear thinking about…

W.W.

"Donna!"

Josh's shout was one notch below a bellow. He was making an effort.

"Mmm?" She was standing right beside him.

"Ahhh! That's it, we're getting you that bell to wear around your neck." He looked at her hard. "Were you standing behind the door?"

"I was. You're right: it's good for the back. Very helpful when you're stressed."

"Well why don't you… Why are you stressed?" He turned, and took her shoulders in his hands, peering critically into her eyes. "Is everything okay?"

"Aside from having six hundred White House staffers, half a dozen press members and my mother call me so far today?"

"Your mother called? I thought you were planning on calling her tonight?" He was still looking at her, examining her as though for signs of plague or madness.

"I'm fine!" She pulled away. "I was going to call her, but she called me instead. It's been crazy. Oh, and Mike Casper is going to meet you in the Roosevelt Room in twenty minutes. Tell me what you want and I'll send someone down to the mess."

"Mike? Oh, the thing… Say yet what he wants?" He resisted the urge to lift the stray strand of hair off of her cheek.

"Nope. Very opaque." She turned to go.

"Hey, Donna?" She turned. He reached out and gently tucked the stray strand of hair back behind her ear. As he pulled his hand back, he let his knuckles drag ever so softly across the skin of her cheek. Every hair on his arms and the back of his neck stood up in a frisson of excitement.

"What, what was that for?" Her eyes were wide and luminous.

"I realized I was resisting the urge to do that, like I do every day. Now," he shrugged, "I don't have to any more, and I'm not gonna."

"Oh." She blinked. She blinked again. She reached a foot back behind her and kicked the door closed, and then threw herself at him. She had him wrapped in her arms and her cherry-blossoms lip-gloss was being effectively applied to his mouth by the convenient mechanism of her lips. His arms wrapped around her, and her foot lifted off the ground like in those '40s romantic comedies.

She pulled away, leaving him open-mouthed, closed-eyed, and panting. He opened his eyes after a moment and blinked rapidly, mouth still puckered and body gently swaying in an unseen breeze.

"I realized I was resisting the urge to do that," she quoted, "like I do every day. Now, I don't have to any more, and I'm not gonna." She winked, adjusted her blouse with a tug, and let herself out.

"…," he said succinctly.


	5. Tuesday Lunchtime

W.W. –Tuesday lunchtime

"Josh, thanks for seeing me."

Mike Casper was young, with a vanishing hairline and a strong chin, bright eyes and the kind of soft voice that makes women lean forward to listen to him. Either the voice or his eyes, at any rate women liked him.

"Sure, Mike. Hope you don't mind, I had some pastrami Reubens sent up. Still trying to catch up today from my little vacation, you know what that's like." He sat down and lifted the lid off his sandwich container.

"That's not grilled pastrami, Josh. I'd say that looks like tuna on whole wheat." Mike opened his own container. "That, that looks like grilled pastrami with Swiss and sauerkraut."

"Ever the observant G-Man." Josh sighed. "Trade?"

"Sorry." He held up a note that was stuck inside the carton lid. "The penmanship is, um, distinctive, but I'm fairly sure this says, 'He Gets the Tuna.' Or something to that effect."

"Oh, man," Josh sighed. "Relationships. What can you do?" He took a grudging bite of the tuna.

"Hey," he said around his mouthful, "they toasted the bread. My mom used to do that."

Mike put his sandwich down and looked at Josh uncomfortably.

"Josh, about that. Um, I have to ask you a couple of questions, but I need to stress this is not in any official capacity, and off the record. You need to know I am not here as a Special Agent of the Federal Bureau of Investigations, I'm just a guy you used to do debates with in college."

"And speeches like that are why we always smoked your ass, Mike. What's up?"

"Tell me what you know about a man calling himself Avi Maxwell."

Josh stopped with his sandwich almost to his mouth. "Calling himself?"

W.W.

"Josh Lyman's office."

"So, I'm hearing that your new job was announced. Congratulations."

"Oh, hello, Ruth," Donna tried not to sigh with relief. "Thanks. I'm actually about to get started on some prep work for that actually. As soon as your son gets back to me on schedule changes, anyway."

"Oh, so he's my son, now is he? What's he done now?" Ruth couldn't keep the smile out of her voice.

"Nothing, sorry. It's been, well you can imagine the day we're having. And he called me after lunch and had me clear the afternoon, but he won't tell me what for and I can't get to anything else. He's holed up in his office, do you want him?"

"Not so much, it sounds like," Ruth answered honestly. "When he pokes his head out, send him my love. And tell him Avi sends best wishes to you both as well."

"I will, oh hang on," she saw Josh sticking his head out, his face an interesting study. "Josh, your mom was just saying she and Avi-"

He dropped a file on her desk and almost dashed back into his office. The door closed quickly behind him.

"Okay Ruth, I better go. We'll talk to you soon." Donna picked up the folder Josh had airmailed to the top of her in box.

"_Shalom_, baby girl," Ruth said warmly. Donna decided Josh's mom was a lot easier to take now that her son seemed happy and that Ruth herself had a boyfriend.

She opened the folder to see Josh's schedule changes. Her eyes went wide and she could feel the room spin for just a moment around her. Was this some sort of joke?

"What, are you kidding me?" She hadn't meant to stand and face his door, and she certainly hadn't meant to shout like a fishwife. She didn't actually know what a fishwife was, but that's what her father called her mother when she sounded like Donna just had then.

She opened the door, and saw Josh, sitting in his chair with his feet on the bookshelf, staring out the window. On any other day the look on his face would have stopped her cold, but she was a little distracted and not feeling her best.

"What the hell is this? Josh, I don't think it's funny that you would give me this list, just drop this on me. Literally, dropping it on me?"

He didn't look away from the window.

"I'm sorry, Donna," he said softly. "I have some meetings I have to take, and it just worked out that… I'm sorry."

"Josh?" She was trying to calm down. "If you're going to do this to me, you could try a little warning next time, please? I need a few minutes to get myself together here."

"Sure. Sorry." He didn't move.

She turned back to her desk. Maybe a cup of tea, the coffee was starting to get to her today. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Better. Again. Better still.

"Sorry, Donna. I think I'm early." The voice was a drawl, a little nasal, but not inherently annoying. Some might even call distinctive.

"This," Donna thought, "is not happening to me." She opened her eyes. Leaning casually against her desk, as though she owned the building and not just everything in it, was Josh's 1 o'clock.

Donna tried to smile.

"Hello, Amy."

W.W.

"I got your call, J." She was standing in his doorway. He could see her in the reflection of the window. "I was surprised."

"Yeah, have a seat." He forced himself to break way from his thoughts, and turned to face her. She looked good. She looked a little softer, a little less fuck-you-and-what-was-your-name-again then she had when he'd seen her last.

"Thanks. So it's true, you're really leaving."

"Uh, yeah. Listen, I need to ask you about Senator Johnson's position on something."

Amy tipped her head a little to the side. "I'm not with Johnson any more. It was just a consulting thing."

"Yeah. I heard, but still, you know her, right? Her staff is good, but they have no imagination." He shrugged. "I assume that's why they needed you."

"You aren't going to ask where I am now." She was tempted to pout, but it was not really a club she had in her bag. She couldn't bring the coy, never had been able to.

"EMILY's List. You're fundraising for Weinstein and Washington." He gave her a hard look. "It's a step away from direct issue advocacy. That was probably smart for you."

"Why am I here, J? It's not to talk about my career arc, is it?"

"No." he took a sip of his coffee. It was tepid, but he drank it anyway.

"You don't look happy." She didn't sound pleased when she said it.

He hung his head. "You can still turn a conversation on a dime, can't you? I am happy, it's just been a day, the kind of day it's been… It's just been a day."

"You never used to separate the two- having a rough day here, and being happy."

He nodded. "I wasn't a very good boyfriend."

She didn't argue. "I figured you were lying to me, and that made it tough to respect you, J. So maybe I wasn't a very good girlfriend."

"I wasn't lying to you." He didn't need to say what they were talking about.

"Just to yourself?" She smiled a small, tired smile. "I thought you were sleeping with your secretary. I don't know if I was more upset as your girlfriend or as a feminist."

"I never… I didn't know. If I had, I would have saved a lot of people a lot of grief." He shrugged, and rubbed his hands through his hair. "Apparently I'm totally oblivious to people, the more I care about them."

"Josh," she said, and she saw him noticing her use of his actual name instead of her nickname, "Josh, I'm glad you're happy. She loves you. Good luck with that."

"Okay. Thanks."

"So, what do you need to know about Johnson?"

W.W.

Donna was looking at the memo in front of her requesting preliminary budgeting for establishing her office in Florida. Despite years of high-level experience in capitol politics, she'd never really done anything like this from scratch before and she wasn't sure where to start.

Amy Gardner. Not only did Josh giver her mere moments' notice, but he'd been in there with her for thirty minutes, talking about God knows what. She looked at the roses in the vase on her desk. Amy Gardner didn't have those, roses from the President of the Untied States. Amy Gardner couldn't even come in to the White House without an invitation.

The door opened, and she tried to remain calm and not jump up. She carefully closed her memo folder and took a calming breath.

"Donna."

"Yes, Miss Gardner?" She stood up. This was not happening. It just was not happening.

"I'm sorry for…" Amy looked down. She didn't have a whole lot of practice saying she was sorry, apparently. "I didn't mean to surprise you today."

"Good." Damn, had she just said that out loud? "I mean, that's okay."

"You see, I thought he was just, that you and he," Amy stopped, and shrugged her shoulders. "I didn't realize he was in love with you."

"Good," she said again. "I, uh. Me neither."

"Yeah, you two are stupid like that." Amy shrugged her coat on and turned to go. "And by the way, the ring is gorgeous."

She walked away, her glossy black high-heeled boots flashing as she wove through the traffic in the halls. Donna watched her go. Just as Amy reached the corner and was almost out of sight, Donna shook herself.

"Thank you!" she called after her.

W.W.

Josh watched from the doorway of his office as Donna shouted her thanks to Amy Gardner in the middle of the West Wing. What were the odds?

"Donna?"

"Yes?" She spun, and her hair fanned out behind her. She was like the Breck girl, a shampoo add come to life in his office. He tried to smile, but managed a single dimple grin.

"I'm going to meet with Leo about something. When my 2 o'clock gets here, send them over?"

"To Leo's? Sure. Can you tell me-"

He interrupted her. "Sorry, I can't. Oh, and my watchband broke. Can you, I don't know, find someone?"

She grinned. "Your watch sucks. Let me get you a new watch."

"I don't want a new watch. Just, call a guy?" He grabbed his folder of notes from his meeting with Amy and handed Donna his watch.

"I don't mind. It might be nice to give you something you actually need." She was holding his watch between her thumb and one finger like it was a piece of suspect fish. "Maybe something more modern, a little more you?"

"Damn it, Donna. Can we not do this?" He was yelling, nearly. He wasn't supposed to do that. It's not like it was her fault. "Don't replace it, don't screw around with it. Just call the guy, and get the damned watchband, could you?"

He realized she wasn't following him when he got clear of the bullpen. He knew he was being an ass, and he didn't want to do that. He tried to get his thoughts in order and calm down. After his meeting with Leo, he'd make it up to her.


	6. Tuesday Afternoon

W.W. –Tuesday afternoon

"C.J., do you have a minute?" Donna was holding a briefing memo in one hand and a watch in the other, by the end of the strap.

"Surely, Donna, I can take a second." She'd been feeding Gail and getting her thoughts in order for the afternoon briefing. It was as close to down time as she had during the news day. "What's on your mind?"

Donna sat on the couch, but she didn't relax.

"They want me to do a budget proposal for my office." She waved the memo.

"And what's the problem?" She wondered if Donna realized she was holding a broken watch as though it were a piece of spoiled fruit. She seemed to have forgotten.

"I've never done anything like this. Josh is the one for planning and strategy. I keep looking at the blank page and I don't know where to start. It's like the SAT and I forgot my number two pencil."

"One million dollars," C.J. said immediately.

"What?"

"Your blank piece of paper- put one million dollars across the top. That's how we used to budget for campaign offices. Take any big number, write it down." She smiled at the memory. "Then you spend your budget. If you have everything you've ever dreamed of, the number's too big. Cut it in half or whatever and try again."

"What if it's not enough?" Donna seemed to be relaxing a little, since she wasn't sitting ramrod straight anymore.

"Then add more, and start cutting things you can live without. When you have a number that gives you everything you need, and a couple things you want, add ten per cent and round up. There's your budget."

"That makes so much sense. I can spend a budget- we do it all the time. And I know I can picture what I'll want and need. One million dollars. Thanks." She smiled and put her hands in her lap. She noticed she was still holding his watch. "Oh."

Toby stuck his head in the door. "C.J.? I needed to get the language to you for Quebec. Donna." He nodded to her. "Why do you have Josh's watch?"

"The strap broke. He wants me to call a guy, but I'm trying to convince him to let me replace it." She looked at it. "It's kind of heavy, and it keeps awful time."

"It doesn't really suit him," C.J. agreed.

Toby looked at them both, his slightly smug and slightly sad expression so utterly typical. "You don't know? How is it that neither of you know?"

"Know what?" Donna was looking at the watch a little more closely. On the face it said "Huber" and "Chronograph" and on the back… "B.L."

"It was his grandfather's. His father brought it here when they came from Europe."

Donna almost dropped it. She laid it carefully onto the folder in her lap and just looked at it. She remembered the first time she'd seen it.

"He brought it back after the funeral. During the first election. I should have realized." She looked at Toby. "But, it doesn't work. I know he kept it, and I can understand why, but it doesn't work. Do you know anyone who could fix it without, you know, doing anything to it?" Her eyes were drawn back to it.

Toby shook his head. "I asked him about that. No one in DC would do that kind of work any more. They wanted to replace the workings, and he wouldn't let them. Original parts, it's like getting into a nightclub: you have to know the guy who knows the guy."

C.J. sat up suddenly. She grinned, her "about to do the jackal" grin, and extended a hand to Donna. "May I?"

Donna carefully and deliberately handed her the watch, holding it with both hands like a baby. Or a stick of dynamite. Maybe that was redundant.

C.J. looked at it, and carefully laid it on her desk and started making notes about the markings on the watch. "I know a guy," she said.

"So, you'll let me know?" Donna stood up and looked at her own watch. "Hell, I have to get back. Josh's 2 o'clock will be here. C.J., you'll let me know what you find out?"

"Absolutely. And Toby? Nice catch." She winked at him. He mumbled something about the Quebec language and shuffled back towards his office.

"Carol? I need the number for Marco Arlens. He's an horologist in Paris."

Carol leaned in and gave C.J. a look. "Is this a test? I mean- you don't expect me to have any idea what an horologist is, do you?"

C.J. looked at her. She put her hands on her hips. "H-o-r-o-l-o-g-i-s-t. The Paris in France, not the one in Texas, in case that was next."

Carol shook her head and pursed her lips.

"It wasn't. I'll let you know." Carol went back to her desk.

C.J. looked at the watch on her desk again. "You're a long way from where you started out, aren't you?"

W.W.

"Leo?" Margaret was hanging back a little bit. Since Leo had appeared at his desk with a band-aid prominently featured on his nose, she'd been more than a little hesitant to interrupt him.

"Yes?"

"Donna asked me to tell Josh his 2 o'clock is coming over."

"Great. Show them in, please." He looked down at the notes he'd been reviewing from Josh, then called out without looking up, "And Margaret?"

"Sir?"

He grinned an evil grin at her. "Let's try not to throw anything. These people are our guests."

She blushed and closed the door with a rapid nod.

Leo turned to Josh. "We have the Secret Service, the Redskins' defensive linemen, and Margaret, throwing magazines the size of a small phone book."

Josh looked at him, and then back at the door she had left through, and back to Leo.

"Oh. Yeah, with the thing." He blinked. "Your nose, and the, the thing."

"What's with you today? You were focused like a laser this morning, but since lunch you've been all over the place."

Josh winced and shook his head. "It's probably nothing, but I had this meeting with, I heard there was this thing about- Never mind."

There was a knock at the door and Margaret announced, "Leo, Josh, they're here."

Josh looked relieved. "It's nothing Leo. It's not a thing."

"Okay," Leo looked to Margaret as he stood and buttoned his coat. "Send them in."

"Right this way," Margaret said, standing aside.

"Leo, Josh, it's good to see you," said Kenny Thurman, following a smiling Joey Lucas into the room. He was using his translator pitch. It was usually quite easy to tell when he was speaking for Joey and when, on rare occasions, he spoke for himself.

"Joey, Kenny. You look well. Come, sit." They made chitchat for a moment and settled into Leo's office.

Margaret closed the door and went back to her desk, still stinging from Leo's earlier teasing. She had pulled up an ASL website and was reading about basics of American Sign Language. You never knew when something like that might come in handy.


	7. Tuesday Evening

W.W. –Tuesday evening

"Josh Lyman's office."

"Hello, pretty lady… this is Josh Lyman speaking." She could hear him smiling.

"It sounds like someone's having a better day." She tried to keep her own frustration out of her voice. While Josh had his assorted exes traipsing around the office, his cleared schedule was causing hers to back up, not that he'd have noticed.

"Hey, this is going to take a while with Leo. I know you must be getting backed up over there. Try to push some stuff off on Ed and Larry. Don't try to do it all today, okay?"

"Uh, yeah. Listen, I was going to call my parents. I'd like to talk to you afterwards. Any idea what time you guys are breaking up over there?" She looked at her clock. They'd already been meeting for over two hours.

"Probably late. After this I need to see the President and I have some things I wanted to talk to you about too. Want to just meet for dinner?"

"Okay. Just let me know when." She figured they'd order Chinese and eat at his desk.

"Do me one favor?" She tried not to sigh, looking at the growing list of things already on her plate for the week. "Hey, I heard that sigh! Just one more thing- get us reservations somewhere nice, but not too fancy, just you and me, okay?"

"You mean, actually go out to dinner?"

He laughed. "Sure, the cat's pretty much out of the bag, and so I want get out and you know, be seen with you. You are particularly beautiful, you know? Gotta run."

She wanted to thank him, or at least ask if he'd been drinking, but he'd already hung up.

W.W.

"She is, you know." Joey was looking at him from across the room, while Kenny was talking to Leo and a guy from the NSA. Joey saw Josh's flash of puzzlement.

"Sorry," she said. "I didn't realize at first that call was private."

"Oh, that's okay," Josh said, getting the sign for 'okay' correct and mangling the rest. Still, he'd been practicing, mostly at night when he couldn't sleep.

He grinned. "So you were reading my lips?"

She shrugged. "A little. But I've always known how you felt about her. I'm glad…" she said more, but he couldn't make it out.

"Sorry?" He said and signed. Trust Josh Lyman to know, and need, the sign for "sorry."

"She's glad you took your head out of your ass," Kenny called over, rejoining the conversation. "Me too, by the way."

"Thanks, to both of you. I think." Josh grinned at her, and then turned his attention to Kenny.

"So what do you think? Both of you- Is it possible?" Josh looked at Kenny. Sometimes it was hard to notice him, since he did such a great job of being Joey's voice and her ears, but he was obviously a smart, dedicated guy with a lot of exposure to politics and to politicians.

Kenny looked to Joey, and they fired a few rapid signs back and forth. The only ones Josh caught were "job" and "boss."

"I want to do it," she said. "I think that if we can't make this work, with you and Leo and the President, no one can."

"Excellent," said Leo, who had shown out the guy from the NSA. "Joey, Kenny, would you give us just a moment? I want to talk to Josh in the other room."

"Of course," Kenny said as Joey nodded.

"Be right back." Josh shook Kenny's hand, careful of the amazingly supple and expressive tool that was the translator's hand, and patted Joey on the shoulder on his way past her. Leo buttoned his jacket as he opened the door into the Oval Office. He and Josh stepped through and closed the door softly behind them.

"Mr. President? With your approval, we have our candidate for Deputy Chief of Staff." Leo was grinning, and Josh was looking more than a little wistful.

The President rose from his desk, the paper he was reading forgotten in his excitement. "She said yes? And Kenny Thurman, NSA passed on his screening?"

"There shouldn't be any obstacles to getting them both clearances, and they've already shown their commitment to the party and to the process." Leo shrugged. "Would you like to speak to her?"

"Josh, show them in, would you?" The President took off his reading glasses.

There were some questions, and of course, a little speechmaking by President Bartlet. Josh stood back, somewhat detached from it all. He could recall a time when he'd imagined Donna moving into his job and he into Leo's, when he was toying with ideas of how she could advance without leaving him. He remembered when he'd started working as a senior aid to the President, and the dull roar, which had turned out to be his pulse racing in his ears.

He saw the moment coming, and it stirred feelings deep within him, the ceremony that had started with Leo, had been passed on to him and Sam and CJ by Toby, the call and response that put into words what it meant to work in the service of something greater than yourself, your party, or even your own ideals.

"So will you, Josephine Leslie Lucas, take the responsibilities of White House Deputy Chief of Staff?"

"I serve," she said almost breathlessly, "at the pleasure of the President." She was afraid, much more than usual, of being too loud or talking too fast, and so of course she was both, but they could all see her response shining on her face.

"And Kenneth Aaron Thurman, will you accept the position of Special Executive Assistant to the Deputy Chief of Staff?"

"I serve at the pleasure of the President of the United States," he said, and they were all a little surprised. His voice, when speaking for himself, was a little deeper, and somehow just different than when he was translating. Even when you knew it was coming it was always a surprise.

"Well, let's get C.J. in here. We have a lot of good news to get out and I'd like it to come from us for a change." The President nodded to Josh. "What's the matter, son? Got a hot date?"

Josh grimaced at the attention. He'd been caught looking at his wrist, where his watch should be. "No sir, I just…"

"Josh, have you spoken to her parents? Since your announcement to us last night?" The President had his full attention on Josh, who was starting to squirm a little.

"Not yet, sir. It's been a busy day so far and I'm sure they'll understand if…"

"Oh no!" said the President with a grin and a laugh. "Take it from a father of daughters: you need to call, you need to call often, and you need to let her do almost all of the talking. You head out, we'll talk to C.J. and have her brief you in the morning."

"Thank you, Mr. President." Josh nodded to Leo and Kenny, and took Joey's hand for a moment before excusing himself.

W.W.

"Claudia Jean. This is a surprise." His voice was smooth and mellow as an old scotch. She remembered why he was filed under "not as harmless as he looks" in her Rolodex. Literally.

"Hello, Marco. I need a favor, and I hope it's not an imposition…"

"C.J., really, your assistant already faxed me your notes. I know just the guy, over in Baltimore. He says he can look at it in the morning, as a favor to me."

"That's outstanding. Listen, I know I should have called before now, but things have been just crazy here."

"I didn't expect you to call C.J. Hoped, but not expected. I'm flattered you thought of me to help your friend." He sounded honestly pleased, despite the two years that had passed since she'd spoken to him.

"You're one of the good guys, you know that? Thanks again." She looked up to see Carol giving her the 'high' sign. "Damn, I have to go. Can you talk to Carol for a minute and give her all the information?"

"Sure. Adieu, Claudia," he said. Damn. She needed to dog-ear that card or something for future reference.

"They need you in the Oval," Carol told her, "to meet with the new Deputy Chief of Staff. We have a new DCOS?"

"I'll worry about that." C.J. handed her the phone on her way out. "Here, talk to a charming and sexy horologist from Paris who used to front a band called the Mollusks."

"If I had a nickel…" Carol sighed with a grin. Still, maybe it was time to trade up from a CIA analyst with great lips and an overbite. "Hello, you had some information, sir?"

"Hello again Carol. I'll fax everything back to you, ok?" She could tell. He was smitten, smitten with her boss. That was okay. Nate's overbite was actually kind of cute.

"Sure. Nice speaking to you again, Mr. Arlens."


	8. Tuesday Night

W.W. –Tuesday night

"Would the gentleman prefer to be seated?"

Josh looked at the hostess. Honestly, who talks that way?

"No, the gentleman will wait until… ah." He saw Donna making her way through the crowd, and he understood why she was late.

"You went home to change," he accused her with mock hostility. "That's completely unfair." He took her hand.

"Sorry, I just felt like I needed a shower."

Donna tried to hide the exasperation on her face. It had been a really rough day, and she had just made it home in time to meet the courier for Josh's watch, then grabbed a quick wash. She was able to relax a little once they were seated and had ordered drinks. She noticed that Josh had ordered a coke instead of his usual beer or martini.

"Do you have to go back to work?" She hoped not. They really needed to go over some things before she called her parents.

"What? No, why?" He smiled a wicked smile. "Do you have plans? You were placed in charge of plans, as I recall."

"Josh, you're awful. I meant you aren't having a beer." She took a sip of her cosmopolitan.

"Well, all the changes, all the talk today about moving on, moving out… it made me think." He paused for a sip of coke, and she laughed at him. "That, plus your very subtle tuna fish maneuver today."

Sorry about that," she said with a complete lack of remorse. "So, a pensive Josh Lyman, that's never a good thing."

"No, really. I'm getting, well, older, you know. It's easy to drink, and to eat burned cheeseburgers and fries all the time when you know your job stress is going to kill you one day anyway."

"Josh, don't even kid about that." She put her drink down and gave him a long look. "Did someone say something to you today?"

"No, Donna. But think about it. By the time we're moved and married, I'm going to be forty. I was in my thirties when my father died, and it was terrible. I just started imagining what it would be like for our kids if I dropped dead at fifty with a heart attack or something."

"This isn't going to be one of those things where you go on a big kick, then I have to nag you after a week, then in two weeks you're begging me to stop nagging, is it?" She favored him with a little smile. "Need I remind you of the infamous chocolate cheesecake incident?"

"Chocolate- Hey!" His eyes grew wide with mock fear and he dimpled as he flashed a smile at her. "We agreed, a solemn vow, what happens in Brooklyn campaign stops, stays in Brooklyn campaign stops!"

The waiter came to take their order. Donna had completely forgotten she was supposed to be looking at her menu, and told Josh to order first. He started to snap out his order with characteristic precision.

"I'll have the prime rib, burnt. Loaded potato and… um, actually, give us another couple of minutes, would you?" He opened his menu and glanced at it with a frown.

"This is serious." Donna was looking at him with concern. "You're actually serious?"

He put his menu down and reached across to take her hand. "Listen, Donna. I don't need to tell you I am stubborn, and I love almost nothing more than giving in to a good temptation when it comes along. But there are two things I love more, winning, and you. Not in that order, of course."

"Of course," she nodded seriously.

"I know we're going to have problems, it's just too much to expect that everything will suddenly go smoothly in our lives, when you consider our track record. You're going to get mad at me, and I admit some part of the time I may even deserve it."

He broke off for moment, successfully smothering a smile that had threatened to ruin his delivery. She bit her lip to avoid laughing and waited for him to continue.

"I think the next part of our lives is going to be a lot about compromise, and I want to start by not having you worry every time I sit down to eat. Nothing radical, just more, um, moderation."

"Because you love me." She squeezed his hand.

"Well, yeah." He lifted her hand to his mouth and brushed his lips across her knuckles. "Does that work for you?"

The waiter picked that moment to reappear, like they do.

"Okay, I'll have the small filet, burned black, and the salad with bleu cheese crumbles."

"Loaded potato with that filet?"

"No, give me the asparagus if it's really fresh, with the hollandaise on the side please."

"And the lady?"

Donna pursed her lips for a second, then said, "I think I'll have the same, but make it medium rare, please?'

"Of course. I'll get those salads right out."

"So, what did Mike Casper want to talk to you about? Anything important?" She knew that Josh and Mike had met before they entered public service, but she didn't have any real sense of their relationship. Men, she realized, just don't talk about that kind of thing.

"Nothing. It was just this, nothing, really." He had that trying-not-to-look-guilty look, but she didn't really want to talk about that anyway. She had more irritating fish to fry.

"Okay, Josh, so what did you need with Amy today?" Donna tried really hard to make that sound casual.

"She was working for Johnson a few months back, when the Senator made some comments about the lack of diversity in senior party positions. I wanted to feel out her support on bringing Joey on board." He looked at Donna suddenly. "Why? What did you think?"

"Oh, I don't know…" She hung her head. "I guess I was being insecure. No offense, Josh, but that woman always grated on me."

He nodded. "Yeah, me too, actually. She's not a bad person, but she plays rough."

"You play rough, Josh, but you don't screw over your friends." She arched an eyebrow at him. "That's why having Joey Lucas around wasn't nearly so upsetting, once I got used to it. She plays fair."

Their salads arrived, and Donna asked for a glass of tea. Might as well follow Josh's good example, strange as that thought was. She snuck a glance at her belly, and wondered what affect half a cosmopolitan might have if she was pregnant. Probably none, she hoped belatedly.

"Amy had some ideas about you and me that made things, um, difficult." Josh speared a bit of carrot and examined it suspiciously. His father had called salads 'rabbit food' and refused to eat them. Of course, his father had died in his sixties and Josh wanted to better that mark. He ate the carrot. It wasn't actually all that bad.

"She thought I was in love with you. She asked me once. I was so shocked I didn't know what to say." Donna felt better, telling him that. It had been a very awkward moment.

"Well, she told me today she was sure I was screwing my secretary, which put us all off on a bad foot to start with," Josh said around a mouth full of celery and bleu cheese.

"She, she said what?" Donna stopped with a piece of lettuce half way to her mouth.

"Yeah," Josh said, methodically working on his salad. "She said she couldn't decide whether she was more upset as my girlfriend, or as a feminist. I think that's a pretty good indicator right there that the relationship was doomed to failure, don't you? Can't possibly say that I'm sorry though. I like things now infinitely better."

"She thought you were screwing your secretary?" Donna was trying to keep her voice down and succeeded only in hissing a sharp whisper that could be heard at every adjoining table. She paled except for two bright red spots that appeared high on her cheeks. Her voice, however, did return to a lower and less distraught tone. "Why did she think that? Did you say something that would make her think that?"

"Donna, think for a moment. I was not screwing my secretary. Ever."

"I know that, Josh. But why did she, I mean, what on earth would make her say something like that?" Donna's white-knuckle grip was threatening to bend her salad fork.

"Well," he reasoned with a calm that she found maddening, "I wasn't screwing my secretary, but I was falling in love with my assistant. You can understand her confusion, right?"

"You-" She took a quick gulp of tea. "You were falling in love with me?"

"Yeah. I'm sorry." He frowned a bit. "I thought I'd made that pretty clear."

Their entrees arrived, and they made more relaxed conversation. Donna discussed the things she wanted to talk about with her parents, and they wondered when they would have time to actually do all the things that were adding up on their schedules.

"We should invite them down this weekend, if you want," Josh suggested while finishing his steak. It was a small puck of charcoal with a vague resemblance to meat, which to him was nearly perfect.

"My parents? Come here?" She pondered the idea, as incredible as it seemed. "Well, I suppose they could. I don't know if there's enough time to get them a decent travel deal."

"Donna, don't worry about that. Tell them to come down, um, our treat."

"I don't have that kind of money, Josh, and breaking my lease and everything, my budget is crazy this month as it is."

"Tell you what, you're a lot better than me at handling these kind of details, right?" He waited for her amused nod. "Excellent. I'll give you a budget for both of us, and you make sure we get though this month. Then we'll sit down and work out long-term plans, okay? Easier for everyone."

"Well, I feel bad Josh. I don't feel like I'm contributing my share." She was fidgeting with her napkin.

"Donna." She was still looking in her lap. "Donna Moss? My dad was a partner at a very successful firm. He didn't, even with the chemo and everything, he wasn't sick long enough to dent their retirement money. Mom went to Florida on the insurance settlement and I'm sure she had money left, since she insisted on splitting the money from the house in Connecticut with me. The only way I'd accept it was if she'd let me put it away till I met someone worth buying a house with."

"What are you saying, Josh?"

He took a pen out of his pocket and wrote a number on a piece of paper. He slid it across the table. She took it and looked at it for almost a minute.

"That's a nice down payment, something cozy, a starter home." She started calculating in her head. "But we'll still need a lot of work to really get settled."

"Donna, no. That's your budget. For this month, for whatever comes up, so you won't worry." He didn't appear to be joking.

"That's for this month? You're scaring me."

"Everything my grandfather and my dad left me, whatever mom gave me from the house, it's been in a blind trust while I worked in DC. You know, dodge those wonderful federal disclosure forms every year." He thought for a minute. "Now I've resigned, it should just be a few weeks for the papers to go through."

"You're rich? I mean, rich, too? Sexy and powerful I already knew," she said amazedly, with a nervous laugh.

"We. And No, we're not rich. I mean, not Leo rich or Sam rich, but we're going to be okay."

She punched him on the arm.

"Hey, that hurt!" He rubbed his bicep.

"Good, it was supposed to," she said with a tight smile. "Skis wouldn't have killed you?" She started laughing.

He tried to look offended, but he started laughing too. They got their check, which she insisted on paying, saying she was going to bleed him plenty in the next month so he should enjoy one last night of prosperity.

As they were driving to Josh's condo, she looked at him. He caught her looking at him thoughtfully, and he said, "What?"

"That money, from your mom."

"Yes?"

"That was house money, actual grownup, relationship house money… So, you consider me house worthy?" Her eyes were shining, and her voice was low and husky.

"Okay, that does it, I'm stopping the car," he muttered, looking for a place to pull over and kiss her.

"Josh, take me home." He saw the smoldering expression on her face as she continued, "I want to get us both cleaned up, and then I'm going to prove to you that you're making a good investment."

He almost forgot to stop for red lights.

W.W.

"Annie!"

John Moss sat with his PowerBook on his lap, reading glasses on the end of his nose, and a pencil behind his ear. Both sleeves were rolled up and his shirt was unbuttoned. Normally, this combination spelled tax season, but not tonight.

He looked at his spreadsheet and scratched his chin with his thumbnail. He looked around for his wife but she wasn't in sight.

"Annie! Who was on the phone?"

His wife came in from the kitchen, her expression surprised and pleased, if a little distracted. She came and stood behind him, her hands going to work on the tension in his shoulders.

"It was my daughter, calling with an update on that fiancé of hers." The last couple of days had been hectic, trying to get geared up for Donna's announcement and the subsequent planning it would entail. Trying to plan an engagement, a wedding and two interstate apartment moves, all in a short time, was taxing even Annie Moss' organizational skills.

"So, she's _your_ daughter today?" He laughed. Donna was only his daughter when she was doing something her mother disapproved of, like driving to Nashua or moving back in with her ex. "What's the latest from the lovebirds?"

"They want us to come see them, this weekend." She kept right on working at the knot in his shoulders, despite the way he stiffened.

"Now Annie, we talked yesterday. We'll go at the end of the month, and we can get that senior savers rate, like we planned."

Annie hesitated, and then bit the bullet. "Donna wants her father and mother to come meet her fiancé while he still works at the White House, so she can show him off. What's wrong with that?"

"Annabella Moss, I love Donna as much as you do, but if you expect me to be paying for a wedding, and a reception and who knows what else, on short notice, you can't ask me to lay out hundreds of dollars to fly in just a few days."

"John Thomas Moss," she shot back, playing the full Christian name card to prove she was serious, "This trip is a present from our future son-in-law, who very discretely mentioned that he knew you'd want to talk about his plans for Donna's financial security, which I believe was a polite way of saying take the damned money and get down here to see your daughter."

He hung his head. "Damn it, Annie, I wanted to go. I'm ready to go. It's been too long, every day, and pretty soon she's really going to be gone. But that doesn't mean I'm looking forward to sleeping on the roll-a-bed and pretending we're all instant family. Someone has to be the practical one, you know, and it always winds up being me."

She kissed the top of his balding head, where the pale blonde was yellowing to grey around the edges. She loved him, and not least because despite his protests he'd walk across the desert for his daughter. It was just his way.

"I don't think you need to worry about the roll-a-bed, dear. Josh and Donna are getting us a hotel room at the St. Regis, and Donna says she'll see if his mother might make it up from Florida so we can all get acquainted. "

"St. Regis? Sounds expensive. How are they going to manage if he keep throwing money around before they even start their new jobs?" He groused, closing his PowerBook.

"They're being thoughtful, Jack. Donna wanted something nice, and it's only a block from the White House."

"Well, I'm not going to let him pay for everything," he relented grudgingly. "You need to find somewhere to take us for brunch or something. You know, get on the internet or whatnot."

"Yes, hon." She kissed him again, and he leaned up to kiss her back. "I wish I could see our little girl right now, don't you?"

W.W.

Water was splashing back and forth, threatening to swamp the tea candles that ringed the back of the deep tub. With each pitch, the water rose higher and receded lower, like a stop-motion film of the tides.

Jack and Annie Moss' daughter sat in the bathtub, her legs and arms wrapped around a somewhat soggy but otherwise unharmed Josh Lyman. As they rocked, she called out his name. His responses were muffled.

"Josh…"

Splish.

"Josh!"

Splash.

"JOSH!"

And all the candles went out, leaving them panting, chuckling and gasping in the darkness.


	9. Thursday

W.W. –Thursday AM

Leo came in to the office with a little spring in his step Thursday morning. The party leadership was embracing the choice of Joey Lucas for the new DCOS, and the Republicans were afraid to criticize her for fear of being labeled anti-woman or anti-disabled. Watching Joey and Kenny schmoozing the leadership breakfast yesterday, though, Leo had wondered that anyone might possibly think her in any way disabled.

Joey had flown back to California afterwards to collect her daughter and their nanny. They were going to stay at the Watergate until she found something more permanent. Kenny had stayed in Washington to work on getting his own position set up. The working relationship between him and Joey was something new, but Leo supposed he'd had seven years of having his deputy and the deputy's assistant enjoying an unusually close relationship. Maybe not much would change.

Margaret was already at her desk, working at something on the computer and making gestures with her hands when he arrived. He gave her a warm smile and a cheerful, "Good morning!"

She nodded and mumbled a reply. He was careful to ignore most of her moods, as she never commented on his. It was a respect they had for each other. But this was unusual, even for the mercurial redheaded temperament he'd grown accustomed to over the years.

He hung his coat on the door and settled in at his desk.

"Margaret?" His call barely beat her to his office door.

"I have your schedule. Senior staff is moved to 8:30 and you're with the new Chairman of the Joint Chiefs at 10:00. The guy from the Smithsonian called again and again would not leave a message, so for now he's still just the guy from the Smithsonian."

She looked at her clipboard.

"Nancy is going to be covering my desk after 9:00 because I'm working with Kenny Thurman and Donna this morning till after lunch."

"Margaret?" Leo was looking at her curiously. "Are you going to tell me what's wrong? You've been sulking for two days now, and usually you drop me some pretty broad hints."

"I'm sure I don't know what you're talking about, Leo. Maybe it's you." She folded her arms across her chest. "Maybe you're not getting enough rest."

"What do you mean? I was in bed by 10:00 last night- I've been enjoying the comforts of home all week, actually." He was puzzled at the look of frustration on her face as she reached out to close the door.

"I'm going to get Donna ready for that 9:00. You have senior staff in twenty minutes. Just call Nancy if you need anything." She closed the door.

He blinked at the closed door a few times. "It's not even 8:15 yet," he wondered aloud. "What the hell is that all about, and why do I feel like I don't want to know?"

W.W.

Kenny Thurman was sitting at Donna Moss' desk, his long legs stretched out onto a filing box, as he read through a very thick manual on White House policies and procedures. Donna was using Josh's desk, as he was over at the OMB knocking a few heads over off-budget expenditures in the latest Medicare/Medicaid package. He would be back in time for senior staff in Leo's office, from which Kenny was excused as Joey was still in California.

"Donna, I just don't know how long I can put up with this and- hello. You aren't Donna."

He looked up to see Margaret standing there looking flustered.

"No, not even a little. She's in there," he gestured to Josh's office. "Are you okay?"

"Fine. Sorry. Fine." She took a breath and collected herself. "Sorry, I'm Margaret, Leo's assistant." Without realizing it, she signed her name and Leo's as she was speaking to him. She looked down at her hands when she realized what she was doing. "Oh. Oops."

"Yes, we talked the other day. I'm Kenny," he stood and offered her his hand. "Kenny Thurman. And I take it you remember what I do, based on…" He nodded towards her hands.

"I'm sorry, Kenny. Of course. You must get tired, signs all day long, then five-thumbed amateurs like me wagging their hands around when Joey isn't even here." She flushed a little and he could read how upset she was, but about something else.

"Margaret, look, it happens all the time. I sign and don't even realize I'm doing it. Sometimes I find myself signing when I'm talking on the phone or reading email. As for your signing, you're tentative, but you're form is actually very good. Where did you learn?"

He was speaking in his own voice, which was a bit deeper than when he was translating for Joey, but he still spoke softly and very intimately. Women tended to respond well to that, and he needed to work with these people if he was going to be successful here.

"I've been studying on the internet. I found this ASL web site with QuickTime movies Tuesday morning and it seemed like something handy to know."

"You've learned that since Tuesday?" He smiled. "I'm impressed. You must be a natural. Listen, I don't mean to overstep or anything, but you seemed pretty upset. Is there anything I can help with?"

She blushed. He didn't need a masters degree in communications and a bachelors in theater to understand her body language, though they helped. "No," she said, "It's nothing, nothing serious."

"Okay, well, let me know if I can help with anything. I think Donna was planning on working till 9:00 on the transition plans for Josh and Joey. Did you need her?"

Margaret thought about it for a minute. "Would you like to come to the Mess and have a bagel or something? I can show you around, the things we missed the other day."

"That would be great." He shelved the huge manual and unfolded his legs. When not hunched forward listening and translating, he was as tall as she. "After you," he said and signed.

"Thank you," she replied, also signing slowly but correctly. She grinned when she saw him nodding at her. She put a hand on his arm as they walked. "Now, I have to warn you about the muffins…"

W.W.

As the senior staff meeting was breaking up, Leo was getting ready to brief the President on the day's agenda. Nancy stuck her head in.

"Leo, Ms. McGarry, line two."

"Thanks Nancy." He waved Josh and a curious C.J. towards the door.

As she left, C.J. overheard Leo saying, "Good morning to you too. No, I had a wonderful time last night. Now about the weekend…"

She followed Josh down the hall.

"Josh? You and Leo are pretty close, right?"

He looked at her in shock. "Close? He wanted to fire me and replace me with my assistant, remember?"

"I mean, your family… I just thought that…" She shook her head. "Never mind, forget it."

"Okay," Josh said uncertainly, "Consider it forgotten."

Josh headed off to he council's office to iron out the terms of his severance, vacation balance and benefits. He planned on getting all of that resolved by lunch time so he could see Donna and let her check some things off their lists.

W.W. –Thursday lunchtime

"So, how was the morning with Kenny?" Josh took a swig of Snapple and looked past Donna to where Margaret and Kenny were eating.

"It was fine, and don't do that thing," Donna relied, smacking his hand as he stole one of her carrot sticks. "What's with you and the carrots? These are my carrots. If you wanted some, all you had to do was order some."

"What thing? And I don't have to order carrots- I can just steal yours. Revenge for a millionty-one French fries over the years."

"That thing where you say Kenny's name like you're just saying his name, but you're really implying he's not as manly as you." She gave up on saving her carrots and concentrated on her sandwich.

"He's not." Crunch. Good carrots. He should have ordered some.

"Because he works for a woman, or because he's incredibly sensitive and perceptive and women naturally open up to him?"

"Neither. He's not as manly as me because he is him, whereas I am, well, me." He gave her a full-bore smirk.

"Remind me again why I agreed to marry you, ego boy?" She reached out to get her iced tea, and he suddenly took her wrist in his hand. "Hey!"

"Shhh," he said softly, rubbing his thumb in slow circles around a pressure point on her wrist he had discovered earlier. As he gently rubbed with his thumb, his fingertips applied feather-light pressure to the other side of her wrist. All the while, he was looking at her, looking into her, his puppy-dog eyes replaced with something darker and more intense. It was as if he was soaking her in through his eyes, consuming her visually to satisfy some potent primal hunger.

"What- what are you doing?" she asked breathlessly, fighting the urge to hiss at him.

"Reminding you why you agreed to marry me," he said patiently.

Her breathing quickened, and her lower lip began to quiver ever so slightly. Under the table, her thighs pressed together so hard the fabric of her charcoal pinstripe slacks might have actually squeaked. Her eyes started to roll back before she jerked her hand away from his.

"That," she whispered savagely after catching her breath, with flushed cheeks and flashing eyes, "was _not_ fair!"

He grinned, kissed the pad of his thumb and pressed it to her nose.

"Who's more manly than me?" he teased her quietly in a singsong voice.

She laughed and rolled her eyes dramatically. "No one."

He grinned and leaned closer. "I'm sorry, who was more manly than me?"

"No one!" She laughed again. Her laugh was amazing, inspiring. He looked at his watch… that was still missing.

"What time is it? I have that thing."

"Go on, you might as well head over. And I promise we'll pick up your watch tonight."

"I just wanted a band, Donna. You promised it wasn't going to be screwed around with." He got up and slung his backpack over his shoulder.

"I just need to pick it up. Tonight, I promise." She patted him discretely on the behind as he walked past, and he bent to plant a quick kiss on the top of her head.

Across the room, Margaret watched them together and sighed.

W.W.

"Margaret, something's bothering you." Kenny was looking at her over the last bite of his roast beef sandwich. The White House Mess had great roast beef, he'd discovered.

"What?" She blinked, as if realizing for the first time he was sitting there, despite the fact they had been working together all day.

"Maybe I should mind my own business, being the new guy and all, but it's obvious something has you upset. I just want to make sure you talk to somebody and don't let it keep you down all day."

"That's really nice of you." She shrugged her shoulders and they both heard the tension popping in her neck. "Okay, you've worked with Joey for a long time, right?"

"Almost fifteen years. We met at a conference where we were both presenting. Her translator was a real hack, and I finally waved her off and stepped in. We started working together full time the following year."

"Okay, so as you work with someone, for a long time, you get to know them, you get to anticipate their moods. You're part of a team."

"Well yes, that's the ideal. Other than when my sister was sick and I took a month away, I've been working with Joey almost constantly for years. I imagine it's a lot like you and Leo McGarry."

"See? That's just it. How can you be a team when one part of the team is off doing who-knows-what, and not telling the other part of the team when he'll be back or what he's doing? What if one part of the team can't even sleep at night wondering if the other part of the team is going to get his heart broken by his ex-wife, who 's just toying with him because he's too loyal and honorable to call her out for the unfaithful deserting tramp that she- Oh my God, that was all out loud wasn't it?" She looked at Kenny in terror.

"Actually, you signed some of it too. And very well, by the way." He reached over and stilled her hands with his, then let go and gave her some space. "Take a breath. Okay?"

"Okay," she said meekly.

"Have you tried talking to Leo about what's bothering you?"

"I couldn't." She shuddered at the thought. "It's none of my business."

He laughed, and she looked at him sharply, trying to figure out if he was mocking her.

"We have a lot in common, you and I, Margaret. We've both hitched ourselves to someone bright and vital and talented, and given up a lot for the sake of being part of that team. It's like this: Joey knows I love her."

He shook his head a bit at her expression. "Oh, not like that, you know, but as friends, as part of the team? She absolutely knows I love her and I'm here for her. Hell, when she did Lamaze before Samantha was born, I was the one who was with her. I've heard some very discrete stories about you and Leo, when he went to rehab."

"Sierra Tucson," she nodded, "Tough times. But this is different. This is his you know, his wife. Ex-wife. It's personal."

"Tell you what, if you're still upset later, take a minute to tell Leo you're worried about him. He's your friend, he counts on you, and he's got to respect that, right?"

"Thanks. So, you were a Lamaze coach?" The image seemed pretty humorous in her mind.

"Yeah, Samantha's father is… he's not in the picture. I tell you, Joey squeezed my hands so hard I couldn't work for a week." She laughed at his sorrowful expression. "Seriously! We had to call a temp."

Margaret watched as Josh swept out. "It looks like Donna and Josh are done. We better get back and finish this up."

"Sure. Thanks for lunch, and for everything."

"No, thank you," she signed to him.


	10. Friday

W.W. –Friday morning

"Margaret!" Leo was looking around his desk before Friday morning's senior staff, and there were a few things he wanted to check off his own personal agenda.

"Yes, Leo?" Margaret, pad in hand, stood in the doorway, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed as his father used to say. She wasn't entirely her chipper self but she seemed tremendously improved compared to the previous few days.

"I need you to send a memo, instructing the following to clear their schedules for tomorrow night from 7:00 PM: C.J., Josh, Donna, Joey, Kenny, Toby, Will. I'll have more details for you later. Oh, also tell Debbie that I'll be needing Charlie Young tomorrow night too, and to make the other arrangements with the President we discussed yesterday."

"He'll understand?" She was obviously curious, but she wasn't sure if she should say anything.

"Yes. Oh, and I'll need you tomorrow night too." He grinned.

"We'll be staying late?"

"No, I'm going to have a number of you over to the house in Chevy Chase, for a special occasion. I'd hoped you'd be there."

She paled. He wondered if maybe she'd been sick. Margaret had not taken a sick day since before he went to Sierra Tucson. "At, at your home. I mean, Mrs. McGarry's home, your house?"

"Take a breath Margaret." It began to dawn on him. "You know Jenny is not Mrs. McGarry any more, right?"

"Well, you've been spending so much time over there this week, I mean, I didn't want to say anything…" Her voice had dropped to a confidential whisper. "I know she's remarried, and I had assumed that you were, you know, moving on…"

"Margaret, close the door." Leo's face was an interesting study. She stepped out, closing the door. He put his face in his hands, and called out.

"Margaret!"

She peeked back in. "You meant with me on this side, didn't you?"

"Please." He looked at her, and despite himself he smiled. "Do you really think I've been sneaking around, seeing my ex-wife, at my old house? Right under her new husband's nose?"

"Well, no. Not when you go and say it like that." She frowned. "But you can be very discrete, when you put your mind to it."

"Jenny and Mike are in Barbados. I've been house sitting and using my kitchen." He shrugged. "I mean, my old kitchen."

"Using your kitchen? For what?" She was looking at him in amazement.

"Scandalous Roman orgies, Margaret. Cooking! What else do you use a kitchen for? I've missed cooking. Anyway, I'm going to throw a little party for Josh and Donna tomorrow, and I'm having Chef Dario come over from Phoebe's to cook. I'm making my poached _pears_ _a leche_, it's you know, going to be a thing."

"You're cooking, like a dinner party? At your ex-wife's house?"

"Yes, you've grasped the finer points. After senior staff, we'll make all the arrangements." He was glad things were returning to normal between them.

"Mrs… Your ex-wife isn't going to be there, right? I mean, they're still in Barbados."

"Yes, till Monday. We'll have the party tomorrow, and Sunday I'm back to the hotel. I just missed cooking." He thought for a moment. "You've been worrying about me, haven't you? This week."

"Well, it's not my place to say anything, boss, but you were at her house, and acting so strange all week. I just worried about you."

"You're a good girl, Margaret. Thanks. Now let's get this senior staff going. I have one more surprise for you after lunch today."

"Yes, sir. No hints?"

"Nope," he said smugly, "not this time. Just keep two hours clear after lunch unless the President needs it. Now shoo."

W.W.

"Josh!"

He poked his head out of the office, to see Donna with files in one hand, a phone on her shoulder, and her computer mouse in the other hand, pulling up schedules. It explained the almost Josh-like bellow.

"Yes, Pumpkin?"

"Okay, first, promise you will never call me that again? We're just not nickname people. Second," she rolled her eyes over towards the phone on her shoulder, "Mom and Dad say the party tomorrow at Leo's is fine, but do they need dress up clothes?"

She mouthed to him exaggeratedly, "_Tell Them Yes_," while she nodded vigorously.

"Uh, yes!" he called in a voice he hoped they could hear. "That would be a good idea!"

She scrunched her face up and winked at him, nodding. "Third, Mom wants to know if we've thought about dates. We don't have to decide right away but it if we can start to narrow down the dates they can start making plans for getting everyone together."

She shrugged through this to indicate she had no idea what to tell her mom. They had decided they would get married in DC if possible before leaving for Florida, but that was when they thought they had three or six months. Now things were moving quickly and they might be leaving for Florida by the end of February, just over a month away.

"Tell her the second week in February, the 8th if we can manage it," Josh said with conviction. "I have to go," he whispered. "Tell them have a good flight. We'll see them tomorrow when they're done sightseeing and you're out of that meeting."

"Okay." She looked at him with a very distracted expression. He was down the hall and heading towards the DNC briefing for the Pacific Northwest fundraising before she could respond.

"Yes, Mom," she said after a moment. "Yes, February 8th. That's 2-08-05. It's our anniversary… What? No, not that. It's the day I joined the campaign, the day we met."

Donna stopped for a second. "Code 208. I just got it. What? Oh, nothing, sorry."

She blushed, and looked around to make sure no one had been listening.

"Yes, the date was his idea, No, he hadn't said anything. Yes he does, but I've got it bad too, so that works out fine. Call me this afternoon before you get on the plane, okay? Love you, too."

She sat at her desk, files and phone forgotten in her hands. With a smile, she closed the file, hung up the phone, and pushed her keyboard back a bit on her desk. She opened her secure file drawer. Behind all the procedure cards and the policy manuals, there was a slim packet filled with white tissue. She opened it up and took out a very worn and well-traveled lanyard, from which hung a red, white and blue laminated card.

She traced her fingers over the letters. "Bartlet for America" read the face imprint under the plastic. She turned it over. "Josh Lyman" it had said at one time, but over that was a sticker, now laminated to the back of the card and bubbled a bit with age, that read in his angular print "Donnatella Moss."

She held it in her hands, and sat for a few minutes. Then she carefully brought it gently to her lips like an ancient relic, kissed the words with the barest trace of pressure, and returned it carefully. First into its tissue, then back into the packet, then finally into the secure drawer. As the drawer slid shut, she locked it, dabbed her eyes with her sleeve, and got back to work.

W.W. –Friday afternoon

"Avi, if you're not going, why should I go?" Ruth Lyman looked at her gentleman friend. Since returning from Orlando, they had spent a good deal of time together, but they also had returned each night to their own condos and their own beds.

"Ruth, your boy, he's a good boy." Avi shrugged. "If he asks for you to come alone, I have no problem."

Ruth sighed. "But he doesn't ask. He says things would be easier this time for just the weekend, maybe, if I came alone. He's sure you'd have no problem meeting Leo, who was close with my Noah." She shrugged.

"It's what do they call it, passive aggressive," she said with a scowl. "He wants me to come alone, but he doesn't want to tell me to come alone. He's a little boy and he plays his little games."

Avi stood up from her kitchen table, where they'd been drinking soft drinks and discussing plans for the day. "Josh is not a little boy, Ruth. He has reasons for what he does I'm sure. You should give him the respect of not calling names."

She looked at him and tried to hold her tongue. "You're right. It was a long time ago that he spoke his words and his father told him, 'today you are a man.' But I like you, Avi. You are sweet to me, and kind, and you don't make me crazy. If he doesn't want you to come, he can explain it to me like a rational boy, or he can come down here and get me."

"You're more than a little crazy, Ruth Lyman. I see where he gets it." He smiled. "So, if you're not going to leave tomorrow, what do you say we go for a drive today. I'll take you to the beach to see the water."

He was grinning like a schoolboy. He loved his Chrysler, and loved driving her places.

"I've been to the beach. I've seen the water." She found herself grinning despite herself. His enthusiasm for life was infectious, and she'd needed it.

"I'll buy you an ice cream soda." He knew her weaknesses.

"It's too cool for an ice cream soda. Still, you should wear a hat. Let me get changed." She smiled and went upstairs to dress, stopping at the landing to catch her breath. The stairs came harder these last few months, but she wasn't ready to give up the view and move into the downstairs bedroom in her tidy little condo. The winter sun, sea breezes and an ice cream soda with a handsome gentleman, that's just what she needed, she decided.

W.W.

"Donna, why did we have to come out here?" Josh had his hands shoved in his pockets and looked both cold and annoyed.

Donna, wearing his scarf in addition to her own coat and gloves, was walking briskly, forcing him hurry to keep up. She called back over her shoulder to him.

"This is it, here. Do you want your surprise or not?" She held open the door to a small shop. It was dark and fine and seemed completely out of place in the brightly lit Baltimore strip mall

Josh stopped long enough to read "Konstantin Frye, Fine Jewelry," on the door, and then he followed Donna in. She was taking off her gloves to shake hands with a very old man at the counter.

"Mr. Frye? I'm Donna Moss, we spoke on the phone? I'd like to introduce you to my fiancé, Josh Lyman." She had a glow, in the dark shop, when she said his name. She didn't belong here, in the dim recess, with small key lights throwing pools of crisp white light on selected items in the display cases.

"Pleased to meet you, sir," Josh extended his hand, and the old man took Josh's hand in both of his. Josh felt all the hairs on the back of his neck standing up when he saw the old man's wrist extending from his dark wool coat. The number tattooed there was grown fuzzy with age, but there was no possibility that Josh would have failed to notice it.

"Joshua ben Noah. So, this would be yours, then, now." Frye's voice was slow but surprisingly deep. He moved slowly but with great deliberation and indicated Josh's watch, which was laid out on a piece of black velvet. It was clean, and fixed to a new band.

"Donna, I thought…" Josh looked at her, and at the watch. "Sir, can I ask what was done to it?" His voice was low, the same tone he used whenever he climbed the steps to the Lincoln Memorial.

"A nice piece, this," Frye reflected. "Northern Germany. In fact, the works are from a shop that would now be in Poland, if it had survived the War. This belonged to Benyamin Lyman, yes?"

"Benjamin, my grandfather. Did you know him?" Donna moved silently to Josh's side, and he realized he had taken her hand. Her hand seemed very small and fine in his.

"No," Frye shook his head sadly. "But when Miss Moss told me… at the end, six hundred and sixty-seven of us, when the Russians came. I did not know Benyamin, but from your name, and those initials, I could guess. So tell me, how did this come to be here? In the Camp, this would go to the land of plenty. You take the meaning?"

Josh nodded, and said softly to Donna, "Jews coming to the camps would be stripped of anything valuable, and the looted goods were put into warehouses called Kanada. The SS called them the land of plenty."

He reached his hand toward the watch, but stopped with his hand a finger's breadth away. He rested his hand on the cool black velvet. "My father was a little boy when they put him on the ship to America. He went with neighbors, the Roths, through Holland. My grandfather and grandmother were supposed to come the next month. Benjamin came here through Norway after the Russians released him. He'd seen my grandmother once in the camp, the first week, but never again."

"Ah," said Frye. It was a single syllable that had all the weight of the world, all the horror, all the loss of an entire dark age. "And so, your father carried this watch, and now you?"

"Yes, sir. But I'm afraid it doesn't run so well as it did." Josh licked his lips, and said carefully to Mr. Frye, "I didn't want it changed. You know, altered."

The old man nodded, his white beard brushing across the black tie and black wool coat. "Put it on, boy."

Josh carefully picked up the watch, and looked at it. Other than being clean, there was no noticeable change. The band even resembled the original band his father had used more than the one Josh had been using.

"One tooth, young man." Frye shook his head with a very small grin. "One tooth on one gear. Not even broken, just bent. I was able to rework it. The band is from a supplier in Krakow, the same firm that supplied Huber in Germany from 1921 to 1939. Nothing else did I change."

"It's my father's watch." Josh lifted it to his ear and closed his eyes. His nostrils flared, and his eyes opened again. He looked at Donna, who was still very subdued and wide-eyed. "It's amazing. It even smells like him. It's perfect."

"Thank you, Mr. Frye, for everything." Donna reached into her purse. "Do you have the bill ready, sir?"

"No, _nicht_," Frye made a dismissive wave. "This job, this was good. The band I get, one Rolex sale this week and my costs are good. The workings, they were a joy. No parts needed."

"But, you must let us do something about the labor, something for your time, Mr. Frye." Donna seemed nonplussed at the thought of not being able to pay the old gentleman for his work.

"Labor? I do not charge for this labor. _Arbeit Macht Frei_. _Shalom_, Mr. Lyman." Frye looked at Josh once more then waved them away.

"Yes, sir. I understand. _Shalom_."

W.W.

"Okay, Karl. This is good." Leo tapped his driver on the shoulder and looked through the light drizzle to the new building. It was really something to see.

Margaret looked at the sign as they stepped out of Leo's car. The Smithsonian Institution's National Air and Space Museum's Stephen F. Udvar-Hazy Center. You have to love something named by committee, she thought. It's a hangar. A big, white hangar.

Leo took her arm and guided her to the entrance, where a young man with a severe haircut and a slightly undersized suit waited eagerly for them.

"Mr. McGarry! So glad you could join us today, really. Stuart Baird, sir." He stuck his hand out and shook Leo's vigorously. He turned to Margaret and his expression faltered a little. "And you would be…Miss O'Brien?"

"Margaret, I'm Mr. McGarry's assistant."

"Ah. Delighted." He shook her hand briefly. "Right this way."

Baird led them in the main hall and to the right, towards the display of modern military jets. As they approached, Margaret could see a new display being completed: The Air War in Viet Nam. Alongside a helicopter or two and a Marine F4 Phantom was the largest fighter plane Margaret had ever seen.

"Would you like me to take you around sir?" Baird said without any real conviction. He'd seen the look on Leo's face.

"We'll be fine. Thanks, Stuart, for everything." The younger man nodded and moved off, leaving Leo and Margaret to stare at the Republic F105 Thunderchief.

Leo reached out a hand to trace over the plane's skin with his fingers. His expression was unreadable.

Margaret was reading the display card. "Typical of the ground attack fighter-bombers of the mid-war period was the Thunderchief, the largest single-engine jet attack plane ever used by the United States. This example was flown by Captain Leo McGarry, USAF, of the 355th Tactical Fighter Wing..."

She took a step back. "This was your plane? I mean, your actual plane?"

Leo looked at her. He grinned. "Isn't she a beaut? I flew the B from the beginning of my tour. The 'Jenny O.' Was shot down in her, poor thing. This was my plane for the last part of my tour, the 105D. They found her in a breaker's yard in Canada. Been working the restoration for three years."

He looked at her, and took her hand. "I wanted you to see something. Over here."

They walked around to the other side of the huge aircraft, almost 20 feet tall and painted an olive camouflage pattern. Under the pilot's canopy was a small badge, like the nose art of the bombers of World War II. Sitting astride the edge of the badge like she was on a window ledge, there was a pinup girl. She had long red hair and a slender build and bore more than a little resemblance to Margaret. A fine script read "Fightin' Firecracker" in white script that Margaret recognized as Leo's.

"When I got back in the air, I didn't want another 'Jenny O.' My squadron chief gave me this. Anyway, when I was at Labor and they told me to pick one of the girls out of the temp pool, I didn't really care. Then I saw that hair, shining over all the blondes and brunettes. It was a silly reason to pick you, I know."

She looked at him. "You know, you can be a bit of an ass sometimes, Leo."

He looked at her in shock. "What, I thought you might like to know how I came to pick you as my assistant."

"And this is it? I looked like a pinup girl on a plane? Don't get me wrong, Leo. I love you. You're a good boss, and more importantly you're a good man. But after all we've been through, a pinup! I have to tell you, you can be a bit sexist, Leo McGarry."

"Well, I'm sorry," he said, honestly confused. "I thought it was this sweet little story."

"It is, but honest to God, Leo, pull yourself together. You want to tell me that when we first started working together, I reminded you of your plane, that's fine. But a sweet little story? That would be, oh, I don't know…"

He looked down at his feet, and said softly, "Something like, they restored my plane to display at the Smithsonian, and I insisted they restore the original artwork. Not because you remind me of it, but because it reminds me of you?"

"Well, yes, that would be a start." She paused, and realized he was serious. "You're serious?"

He looked at her, and his eyes were bright, his expression solemn. "I know I'm not the most politically correct boss in the world, Margaret. I tune you out, I call all the assistants 'girls' and more than half the time I think of you as secretaries. I'm an old man and some things, I forget to think about."

He looked up at the plane, again running his fingertips along its smooth side. His action was somewhere between a lover's caress and a father's adoration. His eyes closed.

"But you've always been there for me, Margaret. Bad times, really bad days, and the campaigns... Christ, the campaigns. This plane reminds me of you. She came along late, but she never let me down and she always got me home."

"Leo," Margaret said, wanting to reach out to him, but knowing it just wasn't their way. "I'm glad you picked me out of the temp pool. I'm proud of you, and proud to work for you. I always have been, boss."

He smiled, and opened his eyes. "Even today?"

She grinned. "Especially today." She looked at her watch. "We really need to get back. Did you need anything else while we're here?"

He shook his head and seemed to collect himself a bit. "No, but let's tell Stuart thanks for all his help. They did a great job."

"Not as good as you did," she thought, with a little private smile. "Romantic old fool."


	11. Saturday

W.W. –Saturday evening

"Donna!"

"I thought," Donna said, popping her head into Josh's office, "that we were trying not to do that any more."

"Do what?" josh looked at her blankly for several seconds. "Oh."

"Oh," she repeated.

"Donna, darling, could you come her for a moment?" he asked with obsequious precision. She laughed despite herself and came into what would soon be Joey Lucas' office.

"Yes?" She noted his flushed face and wide eyes. "What's wrong?"

"You're wearing… that?" he choked out.

She looked down at the sheer silk blouse she was wearing, with a single ruby pendent necklace at her throat. "Why? Is something wrong with the way I look?"

"In this light you can see through it, for a start. Plus I'm about to meet your mother and father and I'd really rather not do it while trying to see through your shirt!" He was rubbing his eyes with the heels of his hands, scrubbing away the images and the thoughts that went with them.

"Ah," she said wisely. She slipped her jacket on, completing the black pants suit and leaving much more to the imagination. "Better?"

He looked up, and pursed his lips. "For the party? Yes. For when we get home… not so much."

"It's started raining again. Mom and dad finished the tour while you were in the meeting, so we better get over to their hotel before the weather gets even worse." She smiled, and moved to straighten his tie. He tipped his head back and perched on the edge of his desk as she worked her magic on his knot, her fingers ever so lightly touching his face when she finished.

"Damn," she said softly. "That's still good. Really, really good."

"Some things don't change, Donna," he said with a confident smirk. "Let's go."

W.W.

"Dad, what's so important that I have to take my first really free Saturday night off in a month to rush over here?"

Zoey Bartlet's warm tone did not match her scolding words. Ever since her violent abduction and eventual rescue, the young woman had rarely needed an excuse to be surrounded by family. As for her Saturday nights, she'd spent most of them either with her mother or one of a few friends from college. She rarely dated and never went to clubs on busy nights any more.

Her father reached out to embrace his youngest daughter. He tried to give her a solid hug, but his MS was proving troublesome tonight and he managed only an awkward squeeze. She didn't comment on it, but he saw her biting her lower lip for a moment as she composed herself.

"It's nothing serious, Zoey. There is an event tonight in Chevy Chase, that for reasons too boring and variegated even for my trivia-loving mind, I cannot attend. Your mother and I would very much like for you to go and represent the Bartlets at this function. I promise that you will have a pleasant evening, and I've even arranged for some suitable company."

"Daddy, you didn't! Not another one of those well-meaning chowder heads from State who's going to talk my ear off all night when he's not stepping on my feet? And what do I need to wear?" She had worn a simple but fairly elegant dress. With her hair up and the right accessories she'd be ready for a state dinner, with a sweater and a change of shoes she could have gone to dinner and a movie. You learned to dress for multiple scenarios living in the Bartlet White House.

"Actually, your mother has something for you, honey, and…" He looked up as his wife came in, smiling and carrying a small box. "And here is the original, the mold never to be broken from whom they cast my lovely daughters."

"Why, Mr. Commander-in-Chief! Don't let my husband hear you talking that way," Abbey said with a laugh as she crossed to her daughter. "Here, I brought you something, something that might help show you that we feel tonight is very special."

"It would be nice if one of you would tell me where I'm going," Zoey rolled her eyes while trying to figure out what her mother had in the box.

"Mr. President?" A member of the protection detail had leaned in through the doorway in that completely silent yet entirely unsubtle way they all had. "He's here, sir."

"Sorry, Zoey, your mother will have to fill you in. I'll be right back." Moving with a certain precision that showed his MS was bothering him but not yet dictating is movements, Jed Bartlet moved into the hall to meet Zoey's escort.

"Mom, so what's in Chevy Chase?" Zoey opened the box her mother had handed her. Inside was a magnificent strand of pearls. It was the same one that her father had given her mother on Zoey's graduation day, and it had not been worn since.

"Oh my," Zoey said quietly.

"Yes, they're the same ones. Zoey. Zoey, look at me." Abbey had moved to put her arm around her daughter.

"The day your father gave these to me was a hard and terrible day, for all of us. But we were both so proud of you that afternoon. And we've been even prouder since. Your father and I both think it's time to start remembering better times, and making some new memories. You're going to Leo's old house out in Chevy Chase tonight for an engagement party."

"Josh and Donna?" Zoey smiled. "I had a huge crush on Josh Lyman when he first came to New Hampshire, did you know?"

Abbey laughed. "I could tell, but I don't know if I'd share that with your father."

"Well, by the end of the campaign it was pretty obvious he was taken, wasn't it? I'm just glad he finally realized it, before it was too late." She lifted the pearls out of the box. "You really want me to wear these?"

"I'll feel a lot better wearing them again after you've taken them out for a test drive, honey." She turned Zoey and lifted her hair so that they could fasten the pearls around her slender neck. With a few pulls and twists, Abbey had gathered Zoey's hair into a knot that lifted it away from her face and would pass casual inspection as an appropriate style.

Zoey had her head down and her back turned while Abbey was finishing what she was doing, so she didn't see her father come back in the room.

"Hey, Zoey, look what I found on the doorstep," he said, waving in a somewhat perplexed but very sharply dressed Charlie Young. Charlie stepped in just as Zoey turned.

"Um. Hello." Charlie stopped as if he'd been nailed to the floor joists.

"Hi." Zoey didn't know what to say. They'd spoken a few times since she'd come back, but they hadn't really talked. Neither knew where to start, and both had worried where it might end.

"Charlie, you don't mind escorting our family's representative to Josh and Donna's engagement party, do you?" Abbey smiled at his obvious discomfiture. They really were good together, but it was just like Jed to throw them together like this, just to see what happened.

"Not at all, Ma'am." He swallowed, eyes still fixed on Zoey. "It would be an honor."

"Okay," Jed said, smacking his hands together as if he was about to begin some great endeavor, "You kids have fun. Don't stay out late. Or do, but make sure to lie to me about it afterwards."

"He's teasing," Zoey said, surprising herself by finding her voice at last. "Shall we go?'

Charlie turned and offered his arm. "Sir, Ma'am," he said to the President and the First Lady. Zoey took his arm and they headed for the waiting car.

"You couldn't have warned me?" Abbey smacked her husband on the hand playfully. "I almost missed his reaction."

"I work in mysterious ways, Abigail, my wonders to perform." He smiled, but the smile soon faded. She noticed he was still leaning on the back of the sofa where he had stopped when Charlie came in.

"Darling, I think you need to be in bed." She hated being the one to tell him, hated the feeling she was nagging him or bullying him.

His eyes twinkled and he waggled his eyebrows at her. "Best offer I've had all evening, my dear, best all evening."

She laughed at his teasing, and took his arm as though she were leaning on him. Supporting some of his weight and steadying him, she took him towards the bedroom.

"Get your pajamas on, and take your supplements," she told him.

"And what will you be doing?" he asked in his mocking voice, the silly tone she had missed so much the last few years.

"I'm going to put on my robe, send down for some popcorn and put on 'Roman Holiday.' So you better be in that bed when I get there, mister or I'll start without you."

Jed nodded and began getting ready for an early bed. Just once, he sighed, and said quietly, "Leo's making his pears. You love those pears."

She returned to the room carrying her robe just in time to hear him, and she put her arms around him.

"I love you, too, Jed. If I had to pick, I think I got the better deal. Let's get in bed and watch movies, what do you say?"

"Okay. But if you hog the blankets I am not responsible for my actions." He smiled, and they got ready for bed.

W.W.

Josh pulled the car to the curb, and looked up to see if they could see Donna's parents. They were running a few minutes late, despite the renewed accuracy of his watch, because of the weather. As he waited for an open spot at the curb, he thought about their detour on the way on to work that morning.

He smiled at the memory of her expression. He certainly wasn't going to compare her special gift, the amazing scene with Konstantin Frye, with his little gesture, but he was glad she'd been pleased. They had gone into the shop in Arlington and he had walked confidently to the counter.

"You're holding something for a Miss Donna Moss?" he'd asked, leaning on the counter like he owned the place. He had actually thought of investing in it. No substitute for good service in making a profitable business.

"Here you go, Miss Moss. Per your specifications, Mr. Lyman." The young man had handed Donna a largish bag, which when opened proved to hold a backpack.

"You got me my own backpack?" She had sounded either completely amazed or slightly disappointed, Josh was still a little hazy on telling the two apart.

"It has a reinforced bottom to hold briefing binders, Kevlar supports for the laptop area, and a lockable pouch for passports and whatnot. It's the next generation of the one I'm using." He had looked over at the salesperson, wondering if Donna's reaction was simply her being polite in front of the staff.

Donna had chosen that moment to set the pack down and throw her arms around him, kissing him hard and fast on his cheek then his mouth, her hands mussing his hair and their elbows knocking some brochures off the counter.

"That," she had stated emphatically after coming up for air, "is why you are so perfect for me. I love it." She'd looked, blushing with the realization of where they were, at the pamphlets on the floor that the salesperson was busy picking up.

"Oh," she'd said, chagrined. "Sorry about that."

"No worries," the young man had told her with a grin. "We get that kind of reaction all the time. It's a very popular gift."

Josh continued to look for John and Annabella Moss, but the continuous drizzle and rain spattered windows made it virtually impossible to see beyond the edge of the curb.

"Josh, drop me here and circle around, okay?" Donna 's black pants suit with emerald silk blouse looked like something off the cover of Vogue. She did not look particularly weatherproof.

"I'll go, you take the car." He started to unbuckle.

"Josh, it will take me longer to come around then to dash to the curb, and I know who I'm looking for," she reminded him.

"Tall guy, going grey. Looks like a steelworker rather than an accountant?"

"Yeah, how did you know?" She shot him a curious glance.

He pointed, "Because they're standing there waving at us."

"Daddy!" Donna threw open her door only to have a gust of rain and wind nearly slam it back on her.

John and Annabella scrambled into the back seat, both of them telling Donna to say in the car and close her darn door. With some jostling and muttering, everyone got in and settled. Josh turned and stuck his hand awkwardly back towards his prospective father-in-law.

"Welcome to D.C., Mr. and Mrs. Moss. Sorry we couldn't meet you earlier, but it's been kind of crazy around the office."

John Moss took his hand in a strong grip. "Call me Jack, Josh. It's not like we were put out on the street."

"Annie, Josh," her mother gave him a quick pat. "I see what you meant about the hotel. I think the Sultan of Oman is down the hall from us."

Josh turned his attention back to driving. "Well, I wasn't sure if you'd get another chance to see us here in D.C. I hope you don't mind us just taking care of things for this trip. I didn't want to put you to any trouble."

There was a brief pause, and Jack's voice had the definite air of someone who has lost an argument. "No, Josh, we were glad accept your hospitality, and hope we can return the favor when you kids come to Madison."

Donna smiled at Josh, and then turned back to her mother. "Impressive. Did you put that on cards, or make him learn it line by line?"

"A little of both. But didn't he do splendidly?" Annie Moss had her daughter's smile, or vice versa, Josh supposed. Donna didn't actually look like either of her parents, but she was just as obviously their daughter. It was something she and Josh shared.

"So tell me about Mr. McGarry's that we're going to, or is it Secretary McGarry?" Jack was tugging at his tie and looking confined in the back seat.

"It's Leo, Jack. He's our boss, soon to be former, I guess, and his title is White House Chief of Staff. He basically runs the executive branch of the Federal government under the direct supervision of the President." Josh grinned. "He also loves to eat, and apparently loves to cook, which explains the short notice gathering tonight."

"Jack can't fry an egg," Annie piped up from the back seat. "Loves to eat, but lord help you if he has to make do in the kitchen."

"Thank you, Annabella." Jack was grinning despite his dark tone. "Annie likes to tease me because her family recipes go back six generations to Florence, whereas mine come down through the pubs of Belfast and Boston."

"Daddy is actually a very good cook, Josh," Donna agreed. "And that's seven generations, Dad. You're forgetting me and Isabella, and Chuck though he tends to take after you when it comes to the kitchen."

"So, Donna tells us you've set a date?" Annie decided it was time to suspend the 30-year running argument over cooking prowess for the time being, and get to something solvable, like wedding dates. Or peace in the Middle East.

"Yes, February 8th, if that's okay with you all." Josh looked at Donna briefly as he drove and saw her misty smile. As long as he could put that look on her face from time to time, things were going okay, he decided.

"That should be no possible. It's barely enough time for a small wedding, so long as nothing catastrophic comes up, of course," Annie said.

W.W. –Saturday night

The dinner had been amazing, the company had been warm and best of all, Josh had been able to secure Donna's presence in the hallway or the cloakroom a number of times during the evening, once barely missing a somewhat flustered Charlie and Zoey, who it seemed might have had a similar idea.

Josh was sitting on a divan next to Annie Moss, with Jack opposite him, listening to Joey Lucas describing, via Kenny, the difficulty in trying to move house with a nanny and a toddler. Between Kenny's humorous commentary, switching back and forth between his own voice and his "Joey" voice, and Joey's own eye-rolling melodramatics, it was shaping up into a very funny evening.

Josh looked over to see Donna, talking to Zoey Bartlet as they poured drinks from the impromptu bar, mostly champagne or gingerale. Josh noticed that like Donna, Zoey stuck to gingerale, and he frowned for a moment, remembering the night she'd been kidnapped.

He took a moment to observe that Charlie, standing a few feet away, seemed at least as wary as the protective detail gent, Michael, who was standing so as to observe both doorways and the window. Charlie seemed happy, but it was a guarded sort of happiness, like he was expecting at any moment for it to be taken away. Josh felt for him.

"So, Josh, do you plan on trying to move in together here, then head for Florida?" Joey asked him, pulling him from his musings.

"I'm sorry? Oh, well, we've looked at a number of options, depending on how the schedule shapes up for the next six weeks. We'd prefer to be married here, and then move down together, schedules permitting. We have three or four weeks left here, which keeps coming up as enough time to get married, or to move, but not for both."

"And of course you can't move in together until you're married," Jack Moss said, taking a sip of his champagne.

There was a silence as everyone absorbed that, then Kenny noted the look on Annie Moss' face and began to laugh, which set Joey off. Josh didn't dare smile till Jack himself broke his straight face and started grinning at him.

"Had you going for a second there, didn't I?" Jack asked him.

"The administration has no comment at this time," Josh sad meekly, taking a long pull of his champagne. "If you will excuse me, I'm going to check on our host."

Just as Josh was coming to the kitchen, he noticed Michael moving towards the door. He slowed to see who was coming or going. He noted that Toby and Will, their constant bickering reduced for tonight to a low simmer, were helping a dark-haired man off with his coat.

As he stepped forward to see who it was, Josh heard Will saying, "If we had known you were coming we'd have prepared remarks."

"If you'd know I was coming," the man said turning, "You'd have brought work for me to do tonight."

Josh stopped in surprise.

"Hey," he said.

"Hey," said Sam Seaborn, pulling him into a very California hug. "Miss me?"

W.W.

In the kitchen, C.J. and Margaret were watching carefully as Leo, apron covering his impeccable suit, was whisking something in a large saucepan.

"The original recipe calls for a brandy, or preferably a cognac, to reduce the sugars and for a glaze. I tried all sorts of things to replace the brandy and it never seemed like anything but poached pears with the brandy missing."

Leo tipped the pan with a practiced flip and sent some of the golden sauce within over a large pan filled with pears. He would whisk, stir, scrape and repeat, each time tipping some of the sauce over the pears.

"Then I tried something different, a spiced cream sauce. You can't rush this, that's the secret. Patience as you ladle it over the flesh of the pears."

Toby stuck his head in, a small grin on his face at the sight of C.J. and Margaret hanging off Leo's every word. "If you are just about finished in here, Leo, the prodigal has returned."

Leo turned with a grin. "He made it? I didn't think he was going to make it. We'll be done in here in about five minutes, have everyone sort themselves back to the table would you?"

"You two might need to sample this for me, I always go heavy on the nutmeg if there's no one tasting for me." Leo tipped the last of the sauce onto the pears and began grinding fresh cinnamon and nutmeg from hand mills onto each pear.

"Who's here, Leo?" C.J. asked, wanting to run and see but also enjoying the childlike thrill of being the taster in the kitchen.

"Margaret, don't say a word," Leo cautioned sternly. "She can go peek, or test pears, but not both."

"He's a cruel man," Margaret told C.J., "but fair."

W.W.

Sam was shaking hands, trading hugs and kisses and "Hey, you too," after "Hey, you too." He came into the dining room, Josh at one arm and Will at the other, when he came face to face with Kenny Thurmond. For just a moment, Sam showed real surprise.

"Sam, you know Joey Lucas, don't you?" Will said, as Kenny turned to bring Joey into his line of sight. She saw Sam and closed her eyes for a second. Then she stood up, a beaming smile fixed in place, and crossed to him.

"Sam," she said out loud. "It's been a long time."

"Joey," Sam said, leaning forward to kiss her on the cheek. "No one told me you were coming tonight. Congratulations on the job."

"Thank you," she said, reverting to signs and letting Kenny translate. "How are things at the California DNC council's office?"

"Fine. Busy." He shrugged.

"And Ainsley? She's still in the AG's office?"

"Yes. She's very busy over there." He turned to Josh. "I almost forgot, she sends her congratulations, and I think there's a card in my bag somewhere for Donna."

"Sure," Josh said. "Sorry she couldn't make it." There was obviously more going on here than he knew. Josh looked quickly to Joey, who's face was unreadable behind her smile. He then thought to look at Kenny, and saw the way his eyes pulled down at the corners.

Josh knew that look, it was the same look Donna had always had when telling him Mandy or Amy was waiting in his office. Josh took Sam's arm and steered him toward the table, to a seat down by Toby and C.J.

"Hey Will, can you duck into the kitchen and scare up some more champagne?" Josh asked just a little loudly. Sam was right: he had a terrible poker face.

"Sure thing," the younger man replied, pushing through the doors into the kitchen.

W.W.

Leo was standing in the kitchen, a spotless white apron covering a suit that cost more than Will would earn in a month. Leo's hands were on his hips and he was regarding two swooning women with affection and pleasure.

"Oh, my God," Margaret said, running the tip of her tongue over her lower lip. "Oh, my God," she repeated.

"That is the most amazing thing," C.J. said, wavering between completely ecstatic and just tipsy, "that I have ever put into my mouth that didn't have a phone number."

C.J. realized what she'd said and clamped her hands over her mouth in embarrassment, as Margaret hooted with laughter. Margaret then likewise covered her face trying to contain herself, both of them rocking slightly, faces in hands.

Leo, himself looking a little frantic and trying to reclaim the tone of the conversation, looked to Will. "The secret," he told him, "is to keep covering their flesh with the spiced warm milk till they get very pert."

W.W.

"Will?" Josh asked.

"Huh?" said the normally eloquent young man, looking at the floor.

"The champagne?"

Will looked up, then looked back over his shoulder at the kitchen doors.

"I think I forgot it," he said dully.

"You forgot it?" Donna asked, as she and her parents were sitting down.

"I'm not going back in there," Will said with sudden decisiveness.

"You're not?" Josh asked in confusion.

"Actually I may never be able to look at you, or speak to any of you ever again," Will said, sitting down heavily at his place, still obviously disturbed.

"That might not be a bad thing," Toby said gruffly from across the table.

Josh motioned across Sam as if to smack Toby on the arm.

"I'm just saying!" Toby shrugged.

Further violence was averted by the arrival of Margaret, Leo and C.J., each bearing pears on serving platters. The was a general chorus of "oohs" and "ahhs."

"Sam, glad you could make it," Leo said, putting a pear and an artful drizzle of caramel sauce on Sam's plate.

"Nice to be here," Sam said, looking around at everyone. "It's been too long."

Everyone was served, and Leo slipped out of his apron and took his place at the head of the table. They followed Toby's lead and stood. Glasses were hastily filled.

"Why don't you make the toast, Sam?" Leo asked, taking a flute of gingerale. "If you don't mind?"

Sam stood, and looked down for a moment, then at his one-time best friend. His face became very serious, and he stood straight, glass raised.

"We salute tonight two dear friends, two colleagues, two very lucky people. We celebrate the evidence, embodied here in the engagement of Joshua Lyman and Donnatella Moss, that love, true love, sometimes may go astray but in the end does not often go wrong. We cannot be happier for you, and we raise our glasses now to your long and loving life together. Especially considering your individually disastrous histories when you've tried to stay apart. Salud." He took a sip of champagne.

"Salud!"

"Cheers!"

"_Saluté_, Pumpkin!"

"You couldn't maybe have put some punctuation in there, you think? _L'chayim_!"

"_Sláinte_!"

Josh caught Donna's eye across the table as he raised his glass, and winked as he took his sip. She blushed and winked back, a large grin curling from cheek to blushing cheek.

W.W.

"So, we'll see you kids tomorrow for brunch over by the museum?" Annie Moss was giving her daughter a hug goodnight while her husband collected their coats from the back seat.

"Sounds like a plan," Josh agreed. "Good night Annie, Jack."

"Night Josh. Pumpkin." Jack nodded and took his wife's arm as they went into the hotel.

"Home, Pumpkin?" Josh asked as he pulled the car away from the curb.

"Don't you get started," Donna warned. "Can we swing by the office? I want to pick up some things for tomorrow afternoon so we don't have to go in."

"Sure, it's just down the street." Josh drove, his mind elsewhere. "It was a surprise seeing Sam tonight."

"Yeah, it was a shame Ainsley couldn't come." Donna waited, and when Josh didn't say anything, she added, "He's still seeing her though, right?"

"Sure, yeah." Josh recalled his brief moments with Sam alone during the party. "She has a lot going on. So does he. They see each other when they can, he says."

"I wonder what happened to them. I was sure I'd see them married off long before you and I, well, before you and I stopped fighting our star-crossed fates."

"Star-crossed fates?" Josh pulled into the White House security gate and was waved through after showing their IDs. "Is that what we were doing?"

"Well, it sounds better than 'pulling your head out of your ass' doesn't it?" She laughed. "Sorry, Joey's voice kind of carries."

She looked at her watch. "I'm just going to be a minute. Do you want to wait here or come in?"

"I'll wait. Hurry back?" He leaned over and kissed her cheek. She smiled.

"Always."

W.W. –Saturday, after midnight

"I wanted to say thank you." Zoey's voice was soft, softer even than usual.

"It really wasn't a problem. I enjoyed seeing you." Charlie was walking her through the hallways towards the Residence. They were both taking their time, walking slowly to prolong the evening.

"I don't mean the party, but it was fun. I thought Donna looked beautiful."

"What did you mean?" Charlie asked, trying to keep the interest out of his voice.

"You've had so many chances to give me a hard time, Charlie, about everything." She stopped, and he had to stop too as she held onto his arm. It turned him to face her.

"After Jean-Paul, after everything." She shrugged. "I know I can't just roll back the clock, I can't ever undo the choices I made."

Charlie stopped her before she could go on. "No, we can't. There were nights I'd have stopped feeling certain things towards you if I could, Zoey. It doesn't work that way."

She looked at him with her eyes wide and her head tilted slightly to one side. "So you didn't? Stop feeling… things… about me?"

"Respectfully? No." He smiled, and leaned forward, placing his lips briefly against hers. It was warm and sweet and undemanding, yet honest and full of promise. It was Charlie.

"I should get you home. It's late." He turned and waited while she collected herself.

"Were you always so perfect, Charlie?" Zoey said, leaning into him a little.

"Pretty much," he admitted.

"You won't say it so I will: Boy, was I stupid." She laughed at her own boldness.

"I don't mind saying it," he teased with a straight face. "Zoey, for such a smart woman, boy, were you stupid."

They were at the doorway to the Residence. He took a step back, putting a little more distance between them.

"So, if I was to ask you out, sometime not prearranged by your father?" Charlie asked carefully, "There is some chance you'd say yes?"

"If you caught me at the right time," she smirked.

"Will you go out with me tomorrow?" His bright smile split the rich dark skin of his face in the dim hallway. "Just lunch and maybe a bookstore or something?"

She shook her head. "Make it a video after lunch, at your place, and it's a deal."

She leaned and kissed his cheek briefly. As she turned to go inside, he caught another whiff of her perfume.

"Cool." The door closed and he stood there for a moment, nodding. "Very cool."


	12. Before Dawn Sunday

W.W. –very early Sunday morning

"Thanks for the ride, I appreciate you going this far out of your way." Margaret was looking at the foggy drizzle that was still misting down. She pulled her sweater tighter around her.

"It wasn't any trouble, really." Kenny looked at the block of condos and eyed the distance to the doorway from the parking lot. "Are you sure you don't want me to walk you up? You'll freeze in just that sweater."

"I left my jacket at the office, and I was going to have Leo's driver swing us back for it…" She grinned and realized she was rambling.

"So it's my fault for not letting him take you. I have an obligation to see you to the door, now." He slipped out of his camelhair coat and handed it to her. "Here, I'll be fine in this." He wore a cashmere sweater under his suit coat and had been a little too warm with his other jacket on.

She relented and put his coat on. It was warm, and had a certain smell that men's clothes have when they take good care of themselves but aren't too prissy. For just a moment she thought of her father coming home from work and her burying her face in his coat when she hugged him. She found herself blushing.

As they walked towards her building, she looked sideways at him.

"You and Joey were really surprised to see Sam Seaborn, weren't you?"

His expression was guarded. "I'm sure I don't know what you mean."

She reached over and put a hand on his arm. "It's okay. I don't want to pry. I just thought you should know you're not the only observant person around. And you were really nice to me this week. If you ever want to talk…"

He nodded, and grinned his wry grin at her. "It's not my story to tell. I'm sure you know what's that like, working where you do." He looked at the doorway. "Well, here we are."

"Yes." She looked, and started to take off his coat. She got her keys in her hands and he took the coat as she held it out. Her hand touched hers and she suddenly said, "I have coffee."

"Yes?"

"I could make some. Coffee." She shook her head at her own awkwardness. "Would you like to come up for a cup of coffee before you head home?"

He looked at his watch. 1:15 AM. "It's not actually all that late, is it?"

"I hoped it wasn't. Late." She stood uncertainly with her hand on the door.

"I'd love to come up for a coffee." He smiled at her, and his smile was reflected back at least twofold.

W.W.

Ruth Lyman lay in her lover's arms, her cheek tickled by the curly white hair that covered his broad chest. They'd had a time too busy to speak, and would soon pass into the time where they were too tired and happy to speak. This time, the between time, she remembered from her marriage, was the best time for things which had to be said.

"So, what should I call you?" She hoped her voice didn't sound harsh to his ears, as it did to hers. "I need to know what to call you."

There was a long silence, and she wondered if he had drifted to sleep. It had been an emotional night, and their lovemaking had also not been without passion. Maybe she had waited too long to speak to him.

"So you still need to call me something?" he asked at last, almost tentatively.

"What happened, it happened. Who you are, you are." She shrugged and snuggled against him. "There have been things in the world, evil, unforgivable things. But this? Please! Had they put you in the prison you'd have been out by now, yes?"

"I'll have to tell your Joshua. I'm not supposed to cross the state line."

"Josh knows," she said softly. "He called this week."

He shrugged and squirmed, trying to look her in the eye. She clung to him and he gave up, lying back with a sigh.

"So you knew. And you said nothing."

"It was your story, to tell me in your time. I knew you would. You did."

He held her for a few minutes, enjoying the feeling of her in his arms more than he had enjoyed anything in many years. He finally asked the question he had wanted to ask, been afraid to ask, after he'd told his story and before the lovemaking which had followed.

"So, Ruth, before tonight. Avi Maxwell, did you love him?"

"Yes, I think," she said promptly. "Avi is sweet, and very kind. Avi is a gentleman, and I think he loves me."

"Well that's decided then," he said gruffly. "You call me Avi Maxwell, then."

"Good. Stay tonight, Avi." She closed her eyes. His soft breathing lulled her to sleep.

W.W.

"Abbey? Abbey!"

"What is it, Jed?" She turned on the light, and saw him sitting in the bed looking around.

"Abigail. There you are. I was asleep." He rubbed his eyes and blinked owlishly.

"That's okay, honey. It's still early. Go back to sleep." She kissed his cheek, happy to note no sign of fever.

"Okay, yeah," he said laying back down.

"I love you, Jed," she whispered to his back as he rolled over, already searching for sleep.

W.W.

Jack Moss sat up and looked at the clock. It was almost 5:00 AM, and he had woken from a strange dream, in a strange bed. After a moment, he oriented himself. Annie, her bright orange earplugs visible even in the dark hotel room, was sleeping beside him.

He lay back, and frowned at the ceiling. He hoped that Donna knew what she was doing, leaving the only home she'd known outside of Wisconsin, to follow her man to a whole new city and a whole new life. She was smart, smarter than Jack, probably smarter than her mother. He was glad she was happy.

He rolled over and pressed his back and shoulders back against the comforting warmth of Annie. It hadn't been easy, he and Annie, in their day. But now, looking at Donna, thinking of Isabella and her husband in Eau Claire, Jack figured it was worth it. Ultimately, all any parent wanted was for his kids t have things better than her had done, and he hoped he and Annie had set the bar pretty high for their girls.

He closed his eyes and waited for sleep to find him again.


	13. Tuesday and Author's Note

W.W. –Tuesday morning

"I don't want to go," Donna said, crossing her arms and pouting in the passenger's seat.

"Yes, you do," Josh admonished her. "I don't want you to go, which is not the same thing. Besides, this is big, right? A trip to New York for a day at the U.N., then rambling around doing the NGO thing for a few days without your annoying fiancé underfoot the whole time? Then a face to face report with Leo and President when you come back?"

"You're not annoying." She grinned. "Okay, not that annoying. But, by the time I get to New York, you'll be in the air to Florida. I won't see you for weeks."

"Six nights, Donna." He patted her arm. "I'll miss you too, but this is good, this is the job. When we get back, we'll still have two weeks before the rehearsal dinner."

""Wow. Three weeks from today. I wish we had more time, but I think Mom and Dad understand about wanting to do this before we move." She bit at her lower lip. "I hope they understood. I know they have a million things they want to get done before they come back with Chuck and Isabella."

Josh pulled up at the curb. He tried to put a happy face on his regrets and smiled warmly at his fiancée. Fiancée, that was a happy word. He'd hold on to that.

"Well, Washington National." No democrat called it by its new name. "You ready?"

"I guess, just drop me here. If you come inside the terminal I'll cry and not look at all professional." She was misty-eyed already. It had been hard enough sending her Mom and Dad back home to finish their planning for the wedding. Hopping a plane to take her on first liaison test mission seemed horribly rushed. Such was life in the semi-private sector.

"Okay, you got your bag, and your backpack?" He ran his hand across her hair for a moment, memorizing the feel of her. "Your lunch and your milk money are in your pack. Be nice to the other kids."

"I'm sorry this came up on such short notice, Josh. I was hoping we could look for a place in Florida together." She gave him a stern look. "You better not pick anything without either me or your mother signing off on it!"

He grinned. "Get going, you don't want to miss your flight, and I need to get over to Dulles myself in a few hours. This scheduling sucks. Know where I can find a decent assistant?"

She laughed and climbed out, a bag under each arm and her backpack slung across. She made one more quick check, and leaned in to kiss him quickly and unsatisfactorily.

"Listen," he said, checking the time, "we're going to be in phone tag hell with flights today, and it'll be tomorrow some time before I know anything anyway. Don't worry about checking in from New York, ok?"

"Okay, you too. You got your PowerBook, right?" she asked.

"Sure. If I can work out how to use it I'll have email access." He checked his watch, and as he did every time now he thought of her and her amazing gift, that she herself was an amazing gift. "Go now or we're both going to be late, Donna!"

"Love you!" She turned to go, motioning to a curbside attendant. "_Going to be late_," she thought, wondering about whether she would be using the EPT or the tampons packed in her bag. Either way, she wasn't sure how she felt about that either.

"Love you, too, " Josh called to her proudly and urgently. "Email me when you get to Gaza!"

ReverendKilljoy

Author's Note

_This is the end of Book Two: Code 208, the story of Josh and Donna's return to D.C. and their last days as boss and assistant. It is not the end of their stories together. It is not the end of this series either. I hope you will be pleased to know that Book Three: The Myth of Closure, is being researched now and should start posting before April 2005._

_Life, love, death (yes) and loss, plus Jed, Abbey, Leo, Margaret, Joey, Kenny, Will, Kate (yes) and spies, wars and remembrances, all coming soon._

_What is up with Joey and Sam? Who the hell is Avi Maxwell, really? Is what happened to Donna in Gaza really going to be what happens to Donna in Gaza? Are Zoey/Charlie, Margaret/Kenny, Sam/Ainsley, Sam/Joey or whatever other pair you want to name, going to be a couple? Where the hell is Toby?_

_Is there more? HELL YES- as for the rest, see you soon._

_-ReverendKilljoy_


End file.
